


Equivalence

by kinosternon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (at least at first), Body Horror, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm pretending no murder run happened in this timeline, Lots of Cuddling, POV Second Person, Possible Character Death, Post-Pacifist Route, dark themes, discussion of suicide, for now anyway, lots and lots of food descriptions, minimal time-travel shenanigans, more tags later probably, occasional bad stealth puns, playing catch with the Idiot Ball, plot-necessary human OCs, possibly distressing physical symptoms, unsubstantiated meta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-03 18:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 73,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5302388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinosternon/pseuds/kinosternon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The monsters have forgotten many things about life above-ground, from the trivial to the crucial. But they have a king who’s cannier in affairs of peace than he ever was in war, and he’s winning them the space they need to figure everything out. They have all the time they should need...</p><p>But for some reason, Frisk's time seems to be running mysteriously short.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Barbecue by Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to catch up from a truly pathetic lag in NaNoWriMo, so I'm procrastinating by writing Undertale fic. It's in second person present (sorry) and it's not beta-ed, so any errors are entirely my fault and I'd appreciate them being pointed out. I...also haven't played the very end of the Pacifist route so there might be some mistakes, in which case it's an AU. Criticism on that is fine, too!
> 
> (Oh, and I made a work skin to get Papyrus and Sans's fonts right, so if that sort of thing bothers you, feel free to use the "Hide" button at the top of the work.) 
> 
> This first chapter is set before the first scene of the epilogue, and it's pretty lighthearted; attempts at drama will come later. ;) Enjoy!

You, Toriel, Asgore, Sans, Papyrus, Alphys, and Undyne are the first ones to go to the surface, just to make sure you can really get there, but when you've established that there's a path to the surface, Sans volunteers to go put a few words in the right ears––or flames, in this case, you suspect––to get everyone moving. By the time you're halfway back the way you came, you're being overtaken by the first monsters headed out of the underground. They're so excited and moving so fast that you're a little worried you're going to be bowled over, but Undyne takes her job as the head of the Royal Guard very seriously. She herds the rest of you into a tight knot and points you back towards the surface, since, as she puts it, that's where Asgore's subjects will need their king the most. 

(She doesn't look at Toriel. You're pretty sure she just doesn't know what to do with her, but the whole "chewing out the king in front of third parties" thing has thrown her off a bit. She might even be a little bit scared. Fair enough––you'd thought Toriel in guardian mode was scary, but angry ex-wife Toriel scares you in an entirely different way.) 

So you end up back outside. It's late at night, and there are stars everywhere. Sans, who reappeared at some point on your way back up without anyone noticing, takes Papyrus's forearm and gently drags him a short distance away from the rest of the group to on an outcropping and look at the scenery. Neither brother can keep their eyes off the sky, and indeed, you see several of the other monsters who are scattered on the mountainside bumping gently into one another as they look upwards. For thousands of years, all they had were shiny rocks embedded in a too-close ceiling in some of the dimmer rooms in Waterfall; now, there's a whole expanse of the starlight over their heads. It always looked lonely to you, all those tiny pinpricks that looked so close together but were so impossibly far apart; but now, seeing it in their eyes, it's like a field of wishes that are suddenly within their reach. 

It's cold out on the mountain, though, and windy. The inhabitants of Snowdin are holding up fine, but the wind's off-putting for Waterfall's residents, and the monsters who live in Hotland are already starting to huddle together for warmth. Undyne and Alphys, especially, were unprepared for the cold, and are leaning against each other. Undyne's always blue, but Alphys looks a bit too close to her shade for comfort. She looks utterly fascinated by what she's seeing around her, so you're not entirely sure she's noticed. 

Papyrus drags his eyes away from the sky long enough to offer his scarf to the two of them, and Undyne bundles it around both of them, kneeling down so she's close to Alphys's level and drawing her close. You're pretty sure that was smooth as heck, but you don't really know all that much about that sort of thing and aren't sure you really want to just yet, so you give them some privacy for a bit and look around elsewhere instead. 

A flicker of orange makes you look over to a clearing near the opening leading out of the mountain, and you see Grillby directing some others who appear to be making some sort of...tent? Pavilion? A temporary shelter of some kind. You see other monsters carrying large stones, and someone is using magic to dig a hole in the ground. Other monsters are starting to notice what he's doing and drift over in twos and threes, speaking to each other in hushed voices. 

By the time most of them have gathered, there's a magical fire burning in the newly made fire-pit, courtesy of Grillby. Other monsters are bringing loads of food to the surface, and secondary grills are being set up. Soon enough, you're all watching a fire-monster show off his prowess as a master of his element––hot dogs, burgers, cheese sandwiches, snails and dozens of delicacies you have no name for, all being grilled in parallel before being flipped into waiting buns or straight onto plates. The smell of it all is incredible, and despite the late hour you feel your stomach rumble demandingly. You start looking for the line to get a hot dog. 

Papyrus looks less than thrilled, and stands upwind of the little impromptu restaurant with his brother, arms crossed. Sans just looks...tired, you think. Not unhappy, though. He keeps one hand on Papyrus like he can't quite believe they're both there, out in the cold of the mountainside in the wee hours of the morning, watching their little world begin to celebrate their newfound freedom. 

You decide to help him out, given the division in interest, and ask if he wants you to get him anything. 

“nah, i'm good here," he says, and winks at you. "you should go get something, though. knock yourself out, kid. you've earned it." 

It sounds like he actually means it. You feel warm inside already as you hurry towards the grills. You get your dog after less of a wait than you were expected, and chow down as you wander the area around the pavilion, looking for familiar faces. 

Asgore, as usual, is in the middle of everything, standing head and shoulders above the huge knot of monsters surrounding him. They're peppering him with question after question about what will happen now that everyone is on the surface. He seems to have gotten across that he's not planning to wage any war, but that's about it––the questions are coming at him so fast that he can't finish answering one before another takes its place, and he keeps interrupting himself as a result. 

A sharp cough cuts through the noise, though, and suddenly Toriel is there. She seems to be in full-fledged Queen Mode, and all of a sudden the mass of monsters is taking several steps back and organizing into something more like a press conference. She wordlessly points to one monster at a time, and suddenly the king's audience has a lot more order. Toriel and Asgore don't look at each other, but it's clear that they've done this before, even if it’s been centuries.

You like both of them, you think, watching as Asgore sketches out a plan for life on the surface and Toriel occasionally closes her eyes in frustration (though she doesn't say anything, and Asgore’s trying not to look at her so you’re not sure if he’s noticed). You remember, dimly, Asgore promising to raise you as their own child. You remember the videos you saw––or heard, really––of Asgore and Toriel preparing for Asriel's birth, and their two near-identical houses, each with the other's room shut tight. You don't know whether a happy family life was something Asgore could promise, not with the pain present in every interaction between him and Toriel, or the anger she was making very clear now. But you like both of them, and they both like you, and you think that's a start. 

There's a lot of people that like you, now. It's a little strange. 

Most of the monsters have been giving you a bit of a wide berth, but Kid finds you among the crowd as you're thinking this. They can't talk too well while trying to eat a hot dog at the same time, but that doesn't stop them from trying, and you listen to their excited mumbling as you walk around the edges of the pavilion together. 

You soon figure out why Undyne wasn't there keeping Asgore's subjects in order; she's next to one of the secondary fire pits, still unabashedly cuddling with Alphys. When the two of you come upon them, Kid gets just a little quieter, looking at Undyne with wide eyes and munching thoughtfully. Undyne looks up at you and blushes slightly; she's sweating, and you think she probably put herself a bit too close to the fire, sacrificing her comfort in an effort to keep Alphys warm. 

You decide you want to help with that, and approach cautiously, looking for a sign that it's okay to go in for a hug. 

There's a very awkward stand-off as Alphys tries to read your intentions, but she gets there in the end, opening her arms with a nervous little twitch. You dive in, hugging her tightly. It's been a very hard couple of days for her, and now she's surrounded by a bunch of the monsters that she's been hiding from for a while––and on top of all of that, you're pretty sure she's cold-blooded. She says something grateful about endothermic mammalian systems as you wrap your arms around her sturdy little shoulders. You feel the fabric of Papyrus's scarf against your cheek, layered over the lapels of Alphys's lab coat. Her talons on your back are oddly comforting. It’s nice and cozy in your little knot of human and monster, and you start to doze off. It’s been a very, very long day. 

You wake up to Alphys fussing over what to do about you, and discover that the area around the pavilion has been transformed into what looks like the biggest slumber party you’ve ever seen. You have no idea where all those blankets and pillows come from, much less the sleeping bags or the handful of full-fledged tents. Did monsters camp in the Underground? You were always closest to the city, so you suppose you just never saw them at it.

Undyne’s retrieved a huge mass of blankets and three pillows, and Alphys, who’d been fretting about waking you up, falls nervously silent as you sit up some and rub your eyes. You’re too sleepy to talk, so you just take each of them by the hand and pull towards one of the huddled masses of monster bodies. You end up finding Toriel before you find Asgore; she’s sitting at the edge of a small crowd of cuddling monsters from Snowdin. 

Nearby are Sans and Papyrus. Sans is snoozing happily lying half in Papyrus’s lap, and Papyrus seems slightly perturbed at the sight of so many monsters who are all apparently planning to “sleep” instead of just napping for a few hours. You kneel down beside them and pat at him absently, and when he looks down at you, you think he looks tired––he’s got faint creases under his eye-sockets that you’re only used to seeing on Sans. 

You’d been planning on sleeping next to Toriel, but you’re not sure if she’s planning to sleep tonight, and you think that Sans might’ve decided to sleep where he did on purpose. So you pull at Papyrus and at Undyne until they’re in positions where you can curl up between them, with your pillow atop Papyrus’s femur and one of your ankles hooked around Undyne’s. (Alphys curls up against her other side, huddled tight against her with Greater Dog, out of armor, curled up against her back; you’re pleased they seemed to have come up with a good sleeping arrangement.) Papyrus sighs at you, obviously a bit put out, but doesn’t say anything and even leans back till he’s on the ground himself, hands behind his head as he stares up at the sky. 

You raise a hand to wave at Toriel, and to your surprise she comes over, reaching between the tops of their heads to place a soft, warm hand (paw? What does she call them? You realize you don’t really know, but it’s got five fingers, clawlike nails, and soft fur between the padding on her fingers and palms) on your shoulder. You reach up, curl your hand around a couple of her fingers, and close your eyes. 

You’re surrounded by friends and warm despite the chill breeze coming down the mountain. Dawn will probably come too soon for most of you, but you can’t think of better people to wake up beside. 

Incredibly, it really does seem like everything’s going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will probably be in a few days, might be as much as a week or two. I'm trying to keep this as something I'm doing for fun, so I won't be sticking to a tight update schedule. 
> 
> If you're so inclined, let me know what you think! I have an idea of where I'm going with this, but suggestions are also welcome.


	2. First surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With morning comes the first steps towards establishing relations with the humans. There are some unexpected snags in store, but Frisk's friends are resourceful and determined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up drawing a moment from chapter 1; it's [here](http://kinosternon.tumblr.com/post/134777534828/assistant-blogkeeper-guess-whos-trying-out), if you're interested. I'm not very good at art, and art software is baffling, but I had fun with it. (I haven't added it into chapter 1 yet, but I might eventually.)
> 
> Thank you so much for your kudos and reviews, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! It got long faster than I thought it would, so I only covered about half of what I'd planned to get to in this chapter. Hopefully it'll be interesting anyway. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

You wake up to the sound of Papyrus’s voice. You can tell he’s trying to keep it quieter than usual, but…well, you appreciate the effort but you’re definitely awake now. “IS THE ‘SKY’ SUPPOSED TO DO THAT, YOUR MAJESTY??”

Above your head, the sky has gone grayish-green under the blue. Dawn’s coming, but Papyrus wouldn’t know what that looks like. Toriel and Asgore would, as might the monsters who lived in the Ruins and possibly the ones who’d visited the palace.

Well, if you’re awake anyway—you can feel Undyne and Alphys stirring behind you and hear them murmuring sleepily to each other, and above you Toriel is explaining that yes, that’s normal, it means it’s morning—if you’re all waking up anyway, you’d like to show your friends the sunrise.

In the pre-dawn glow, you find an old wall that would have been difficult to spot the night before. It’s thick and sturdy, despite looking worn enough that it could be part of the mountain if not for the color and the blocky shape. Undyne hoists Alphys up to the top before climbing it herself, and Sans takes a ride up on Papyrus’s back, much to his annoyance. Toriel lifts you up gently and then Undyne gets a hand around your wrist and yanks. Toriel frowns at her a bit as she makes her own climb without much difficulty.

The top of the wall is wider than some of the passageways in the underground were, so you feel pretty safe up there. You settle in next to Toriel and watch the colors above your heads cycle through the pre-dawn rainbow, settling on a blushing orange.

You’re a little bit surprised when Asgore finds the rest of you, just as the tip of the sun is first becoming visible over the crest of the mountains to the east. He scales the wall like it’s nothing and watches the sunrise with the rest of you, chatting with the others. You let the words wash over you. They all sound so excited and happy.

As you look over the landscape, though, your eye catches on something. You tug on Toriel’s sleeve, gently, and point towards the movements you can just spot through the trees in the distance. It’s hard to tell, but you think they’re more agitated than they should be.

You’re leaning forward just slightly and squinting, trying to get a better picture of what’s going on, when Asgore speaks again. “Frisk…I have something to ask of you.”

You jump a little and turn your head. Asgore’s on the far end of the wall, so you can’t see much of him, but his voice carries clearly in the morning air. “Will you act as our ambassador to the humans?”

…Asgore does know you don’t talk much, right?

Still, you do want to help out, and given the story of what happened with Asriel and Chara, you can see where he’s coming from. A live, healthy human in the monsters’ company will look good to the humans meeting the monsters for the first time. You’re not sure how much help you’ll be, but you nod.

Papyrus explodes with excitement and dashes off towards the humans. You blink after him, unsure how to deal with this, and are relieved when Sans, Undyne, Alphys, and Asgore go after him. You hope they’ll be careful with whatever they’re trying to do.

You’re left with Toriel. You’re feeling a little awkward—if you’re supposedly the ambassador now, shouldn’t you be hurrying to help?—but you feel yourself go still as she turns to you.

She asks you if you want to leave.

You hadn’t realized leaving was even a possibility. You should have—haven’t you been telling everyone all along that you wanted to go home?—but you’d started second-guessing yourself even before you decided to leave Toriel the first time, and when you’d decided to spare Asgore you’d thrown in your lot with your friends once and for all, as far as you’re concerned.

Maybe you haven’t yet managed to explain that, you realize. Suddenly, Asgore’s question to you makes a bit more sense. Maybe it was his own roundabout way of asking you to stay.

“I want to stay with you,” you tell Toriel, and you do. She looks so surprised that you feel guilty for a moment, but then she’s very pleased. She doesn’t seem to think it will be forever, but that’s fine—you don’t know how the future will play out, either. At this point, you don’t think anyone does.

“Do you want to catch up with the others?” she asks, and after a moment’s hesitation, you shake your head. Maybe her question shook you more than you’d realized, or else you’re still nervous about the idea of being an ambassador, but either way you’re not sure you’re ready to witness the first meeting of humans and monsters just yet. Instead, you point down at the commotion below you again.

“I see,” Toriel says. “That is a good point, my child. Let us investigate the possible commotion before venturing forth.”

* * *

It doesn’t take you and Toriel too long to figure out what the issue is. Monsters, as everyone around the pavilion is only just discovering, are to various degrees translucent in direct sunlight.

None of the monsters seem to have been aware of this, including Toriel, who was alive when the monsters were first driven underground.

There’s a fair bit of panic about this, but you’re trying not to let it get to you. You walk around and try to gather observations instead. Napstablook is transparent enough that you almost walk through them before you recognize the headphones. They look like they’re freaking out—they’ve gone almost completely silent, and you have to keep a close eye on them to make sure that they don’t just give up and find some quiet corner to lie down. You’re a little worried they’ll be stepped on—or through—if they try that. Their tears keep hitting the ground, withering individual stalks of grass.

You keep them nearby until someone you hadn’t been expecting arrives on the surface. Mettaton, you find out, had gotten new batteries from Alphys sometime before you all left, and has made his fabulous way to the surface. His body is either entirely solid, or close enough to it that it’s hard to tell any distinguish any transparency from the glint of sunshine off his exterior. He’s rectangular again, bouncing around on his odd little pogo-stick wheel with minimal difficulty despite the rough terrain. He also takes one look at Napstablook and takes them off your hands, steering them off somewhere. Napstabook looks like they’re not sure what to make of this development, but they still stick carefully close to him. You trust Mettaton to know what to do; he and Napstablook seem like they’re pretty close, after all.

“Give Alphys my regards, darling!” he calls over his shoulder as he steers Napstablook away. You hope he knows what he’s doing. You think you see Burgerpants in the distance in the direction they’re heading, and…is that Shyren? You can’t quite tell, but you’re distracted by your phone ringing in your pocket.

“Hey Frisk, what’s the holdup?” you hear as soon as you answer. It’s Undyne on the other end, apparently. “You’re missing out on all the fun!”

“I’M NOT REALLY SURE ‘FUN’ IS WHAT THIS SHOULD BE CALLED!” Papyrus says, and you feel a cold dread drop into the pit of your stomach. Has something gone wrong already?

“yeah, it’s pretty boring,” you hear next, as well as some tooth-gnashing. How did Sans get the phone away from Papyrus that quickly? “we’ve been in this office for like twenty minutes. pap and undyne love exercise, so all this _stationery_ is really getting to them, you know? ”

You can’t help it—you giggle.

“Oh, Frisk,” says Toriel’s voice behind you. You’d lost track of her while you were guarding Napstablook, but now she’s got her hand half-outstretched for the phone. “Are those the others? Is everyone all right?”

You nod, and offer the phone to her.

“Hello?” she says, and then blinks and smiles as she realizes who’s on the other end. “Oh, hello, Sans. How is…oh, hee hee.” You wonder if he just reused the stationery pun. “Well, I am glad things are coming along. We had a bit of a rough patch out here, but I think I have smoothed it over for now. Tell Dreemurr that he really should come back as soon as possible—and make sure he is not taken by surprise. He’s useless when he’s blindsided.”

_Even more useless than usual_ is written all over her face, but she doesn’t say it. Sans’s presence on the line seems to have tempered her somewhat.

“What’s the issue? Well…” She starts to explain the situation to Sans, and you can hear hints of the terrible puns involved as Sans relays it to the others. Eventually it all gets conveyed, though. It sounds like Undyne wants to go outside to check (and possibly to fight the sun, you’re not sure. You wonder if Papyrus will offer to give it a scolding instead) but Asgore convinces her that it would be better for her to stay put for the time being.

You’re not sure what the humans are up to or even what office your friends are in, but they seem reasonably safe, even if they’re going to be a while. It seems like a very grown-up thing to do to keep them in an office. They’re probably going to have to fill out papers. You wonder if Asgore’s ever used a computer. Or a ball-point pen, for that matter.

“It seems as though they might be a while,” Toriel frets, finally hanging up the phone after exchanging one last set of puns with Sans. “I suppose you and I will need to hold down the fort for the time being. Will you be able to entertain yourself for a few hours?”

You nod.

“Good. I ought to oversee the planning session for the aboveground infrastructure, if no one else is going to do it.” There’s a hint of venom in her voice again, but it clears up quickly. “After that, would you like to come with me to the human city? I would like to experience a little of it myself.”

You nod again, though you’re a little less sure this part’s a good idea. She doesn’t seem to notice any misgivings, though, and she’s gone soon enough. You end up spending the time while she’s busy listening to Gerson. He’s one of the only monsters old enough to remember life on the surface, and he’s apparently settled in to offer advice and anecdotes to any monster who’s interested. He’s got quite the crowd at this point, especially with the surprise the monsters have already gotten this morning.

According to him, the transparency will wear off for many of them eventually—they just need to take some time to get acclimated to the surface, maybe befriend some humans and move a little bit out of their comfort zones. Human technology and magic can work well together, Gerson says, with a bit of respect on both sides and some healthy curiosity. That makes sense, you suppose. After all, monsters like Alphys, Bratty and Catty have been scavenging from the garbage dump for years. Toriel comes back after a while, and you follow her with most of your worries dispelled. Gerson seems to have his audience well in hand.

It's a long walk to the nearest town with Toriel, but you're used to long walks so you're all right. She tells you that she got her directions from a Whimsalot that had decided to investigate the area and start up a map. Monsters can apparently get a job done incredibly quickly when they put their minds to it; there's no map yet, but the Whimsalot did leave trail markings for you and Toriel to follow. You walk from one mark to the next together, holding hands when the terrain is smooth enough to permit it. You're really happy to be back with her. You missed her, and it's nice to know that now that she's right next to you she can't possibly ignore your calls. (It seems graceless to ask about that, though, so you won't.)

Instead, you fill her in on some of your adventures in the Underground. You're sort of fishing for how much she might already know, but you try to stay subtle about it, starting from the time you moved beyond the gate to the Ruins. She laughs as you tell her about your first time meeting Sans and Papyrus. It helps to pass the time until you arrive at the town.

You think you might have seen the grocery store on one of the bus routes, but you're not sure, and you stick close to Toriel as you approach the store so you don't get the chance to check. Is this the same town as the one the others ended up in? Probably, you think, since it's the closest. You wish you knew more about this area so you knew where they might be. You also have no idea how many humans here have already heard today about the existence of monsters.

You pull Toriel aside as you come to the entrance to the store. "Do you want to hide?" you ask. "I can get things."

"That will not be necessary, my child," she says fondly. "I am confident that I will be able to shop with no trouble."

You're not sure you're as confident as she is. You stick close to her as the two of you enter the grocery store, but you don't take her hand, just in case she ends up needing both hands free, either for shopping or…something else. You get the cart, for the same reason. She smiles at you and lets you lead the way.

You haven't been grocery shopping too often, but Toriel makes it look easy. She goes down each row only once, pulling the things she needs off the shelves and stacking them carefully in the cart. She gets a little bit of a lot of things, but she gets stumped when she starts looking around for snails. The two of you scour the foreign food aisle without success, and you give her a sympathetic little shrug. You're a little bit relieved, but you feel bad that she wasn't able to find her favorite food here.

Favorite food...

Suddenly, your face lights up. You tug on Toriel's sleeve.

"What is it, my child?" She tilts her head slightly. "Is there something you wish to buy?"

You nod vigorously and drag her to the pasta aisle. "Can I make dinner tonight?" you ask as you go. "Can I invite everyone?"

"Everyone?" she asks. "Do you mean the brothers and Alphys and Undyne...and Asgore?"

You nod.

Her face falls a little bit at the last one, but she perks up almost immediately. "If you wish, my child. Especially if you will allow me to help."

"Yes, please." You don't know whether there will be any kind of stove, and since Undyne's been your only formal instruction, you think it would be good to have an experienced adult's supervision.

You end up buying a couple of boxes of spaghetti and three jars of sauce (the pre-seasoned kind with cheese in, because it sounds tasty), just to be on the safe side in case you end up needing extra. You also buy a cup of instant ramen for Alphys—you do owe her for the noodles you took in her lab, after all, and you're not actually sure whether she likes spaghetti. Plus, you think she'll probably like it.

Toriel impresses the socks off of the cashier, who has either heard about the sudden appearance of monsters in town or is just that unflappable. She offers gold as payment at first, but after their flustered—if friendly—refusal, she asks if she can talk to the manager. The cashier, after fetching him, offers to make up the difference on the spot out of their own pocket, which startles both of you, but in the end the manager allows Toriel to set up a line of credit. You aren’t sure whether the two of them believe her when she tells them she’s the queen of monsters, but either way they clearly believe her to be perfectly respectable.

You leave without further incident. Toriel carries all but two of the plastic bags of groceries; after some experimenting, she hangs them on her horns, half on each side.You both laugh about that as you make your way back the way you came.

With luck, you’ll be back just in time to start making dinner. You hope the others won’t be back too late.


	3. Din-compatibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (I am so sorry for the chapter title, honestly I am) 
> 
> Frisk's dinner plans don't pan out exactly as they'd intended. This bothers them more than it does any of their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out a lot longer than I was expecting—I’m worried it’s a bit exposition-heavy and draggy, especially in the beginning, so sorry about that. Hopefully the ending will make up for it somewhat.

You return to a village, where earlier that day there had been only a mountainside. 

For a second you wonder whether you've stumbled through one of Sans's shortcuts, because it almost looks like you're back in Snowdin, or perhaps the ruins. There aren't any really tall buildings like there were in the city around the palace, but similar to the city, the buildings all look more or less the same: they're all small houses, suited to house between two and six people. There's also a new Grillby's, a library, and an inn that looks like a cross between Snowed Inn and MTT's resort. 

You stare around you as you walk with Toriel through the village, awed into silence. 

"I imagine this is quite surprising to you," Toriel says, smiling down at you. "These houses are built mostly out of magic, so they will not last very long! We will have to rebuild of them later, piece by piece, with sturdier materials. But for now, it should be more comfortable than sleeping outside." 

You walk past a gaggle of Madjicks being herded out of the town square by a couple of put-upon looking Knight Knights. The Madjicks look dazed, and they're less talkative than usual, but they seem pleased with themselves. Elsewhere, resting in the city square, are some monsters you don't think you've seen before. They remind you a little bit of some of the Amalgamates you saw in Alphys's lab, however. 

Toriel explains a bit of the process—how the Madjicks had converted the hope of the locals into magic and channeled it into a plan drafted primarily by New Home's businessmonsters. It all sounds rather complicated, and you're surprised that the monsters managed to put it all together so quickly. 

"Everyone is very excited to be on the surface," she said simply. "Even with that, such magic does take rather a lot out of all of us, however. I suspect we shall sleep rather heavily the next several nights…even those of us not much disposed to sleeping."

You would have liked to see it being built, you tell her.

She smiles apologetically. "I apologize for concealing this from you, my child. You see, building a town out of magic is a powerful endeavor, and sometimes dangerous as well. Monster children were kept well out of the area of construction, to avoid mishaps. Nor do we know what such a large magical disturbance might do to a human." 

Magic could be dangerous? But you've touched Toriel's magical fire, and Hotland's air vents blew you across chasms without burning or even so much as bruising you…

"The longer a spell has been operating smoothly, the safer it is, as long as the energy powering it is maintained," Toriel explains. "The caster's familiarity with the magic is important, as well. It has been a long time since any of our magical builders had this much work to do. I feared they might be a bit rusty." She shrugs, and some of the seriousness falls away as she looks around. "But now is hardly the time for a magic lesson! We really should be getting home. The others could be back at any time." 

She looks around only briefly before leading you to a house near the edge of the new town, on the side slightly further up the mountain. It looks about the same as the others—it might be a little bigger—but immediately you know it's hers. And yours, now; the thought of that warms you down to the bone. 

She opens the door—there's no lock you can see—and together you walk into the kitchen and set your groceries down on the counter. You try to help her put them away, but you keep being drawn to the kitchen window, where you can see a handful of the other houses and the occasional monster flitting excitedly between them. 

You're able to focus more on the kitchen's interior once she's set out tonight's ingredients. You've never really cooked spaghetti before, much less on a magical stove, and you want to get this right on your first try. You take down one of the spaghetti boxes and start puzzling your way through the instructions on the back. 

You take a pot (also made of magic? But for the moment it seems solid enough) and fill it with water from the sink. Toriel tells you that it came from the river that flows through Waterfall. You double-check that it's safe to drink, and she promises it is. The last thing you want is to poison your friends while you're trying to cook for them! 

The pan holds the water just fine, so you throw some salt in with it and stir and just as you're stepping back, waiting for the water to boil, your phone buzzes. It's Sans, texting you to let you know that Asgore and everyone are on their way back. You tell Toriel, and she uses her phone to text Sans and invite them all over. She keeps texting as the water boils and you carefully add the pasta.

It's only once you've added it that you realize you don't have a timer. You're frantic at first—the instructions on the back are very specific about the number of minutes—but then you remember there's a clock. You aren't too good at reading it, and you don't know exactly when you put the pasta in, but between that and taste tests you think it will be okay. Hopefully, anyway. 

You watch the pasta like a hawk for the next few minutes, then fish out a fork and start tasting the pasta. You almost burn your tongue, and it still seems hard, so you keep waiting, fishing out another noodle every minute or so. You can hear Toriel giggling behind you, probably at a pun of Sans's. You remind her not to tell the others what you're making; you want it to be a surprise. She agrees, a smile still in her voice.

There's a sudden knock on the door; it sounds like the others are here. You weren't expecting them back so soon, but at least this way there's no way the spaghetti will get cold. You dutifully manage your station at the kitchen as Toriel welcomes the others inside, and you overhear snatches of conversation as everyone talks over each other in their excitement. 

Sans and Alphys keep needing to pull Papyrus and Undyne away from the kitchen, since they keep drifting your way to see what you're up to, Papyrus insisting that he smells "SOMETHING DELICIOUS!!!" That's encouraging, even if cooking spaghetti doesn't really have much of a smell in the first place. Meanwhile, Asgore leaves and comes back with some additional chairs from his house, which is apparently next door. 

On your next taste test, the pasta seems about ready. You turn off the heat carefully and look at the instructions again, only to realize that you don't have a strainer and you don't know where to find one. You peek into a couple of cupboards, finding only more pots and pans, before realizing that there's no time to figure this out on your own. 

You rush into the other room, where everyone else is crammed around the dining room table. Toriel, to your surprise, seems to be talking seriously with Asgore while the others watch. There's no time, though, so you tug on her sleeve to get her attention and then dash back into the kitchen. 

"What is it, my child? Do you need something?" she asks. When you explain to her with a few emphatic gestures that you need a strainer, she frowns. "I am not sure if we have one of those…ah! What if we strained it using the lid? The pot is too heavy for you, but I promise I will be very careful."

You nod; that sounds acceptable. She puts the lid down slightly ajar on the pot and, after putting on oven mitts, carries the pasta over to the sink. A billow of steam erupts over the sink as she pours the still-boiling water down the drain, and when she turns around, her reading glasses—on from when she was texting before—are steaming. You both giggle a little over that as she sets the pot back on the stove, and you stand on tiptoe to look inside. 

The pasta looks all right, you think—it might be a little overcooked, with how you didn't drain it right away, and maybe there's a little too much water in the bottom, but you try not to let those things worry you too much. Instead, you ask Toriel to help you open the jars of sauce and you carefully spoon them in, trying to get just the right amount. 

Even after adding the sauce, it's still pretty hot, so you give it a few minutes to cool down while you make Alphys's noodles. You've done that before, so you have no trouble. Toriel gets down a stack of plates, and together the two of you fill them with spaghetti, finishing right around when the noodles are ready to be poured into a bowl. The spaghetti doesn't look too watery anymore, and you're happy to see that it looks like you did indeed make enough for six. 

"It looks delicious," Toriel assures you in a conspiratorial whisper, and then you're leading a two-person procession into the dining with two plates in your hands. You serve Papyrus first, because you're looking forward to his reaction. 

He doesn't disappoint. "WOWIE!!!" he shouts. "YOU MADE THIS SPAGHETTI JUST FOR ME, FRISK??" You made it for everyone, but you nod anyway—his enthusiasm is infectious. "I KNOW YOU SAID YOU COULD MAKE SPAGHETTI, BUT I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS!! I CAN'T WAIT TO TRY IT!!"

You smile happily and hurry to get the plates distributed as fast as you can. You bring out the ramen for Alphys last and she's confused at first. Then she gets it, and her eyes go wide with excitement. "F-for me??" she says. "Really? Thanks!" You're surprised when she hugs you after she set the noodles down. "They look delicious! _Itadakimasu!_ " You're…not really sure what that last bit was about, but she seems happy, which is good enough for you. 

You hurry to your place and sit down, and everyone takes that as their cue to start eating. You wait a moment, looking around the table nervously, and your eyes automatically land on Papyrus. 

"WOWIE!!" he's saying around his first mouthful. "THIS…IS THE SPAGHETTI-EST SPAGHETTI I'VE EVER TASTED! THE FLAVOR IS SO INTENSE!!"

That…sounds good? You raise a forkful to your mouth yourself and give it a try. It tastes just like normal spaghetti to you, really. It's warm and tomatoey and just salty enough, and the spaghetti's a little on the squishy side, but not bad at all, overall. You hear hums with varying degrees of enthusiasm as the others dig in as well. 

It's odd, though. Even while cooking and tasting it, you hadn't realized how hungry you were. Now you have, though, and for a little while all you focus on is shoving the spaghetti into your mouth as fast as you can without choking. You rush your way through the first third of your plateful before looking up again. 

When you do, you see that Papyrus's expression has changed. He doesn't seem as excited anymore, and he seems to be sweating. You stare at him and tilt you head to one side in question. He's twirling his fork around on the plate, over and over, but he's not picking up any more spaghetti, and he jumps guiltily when he sees you looking at him. 

You tilt your head to one side in question. Anxiety makes your heart thud unhappily against your ribs, and suddenly your appetite is vanishing. 

"IT'S…" he continues. He's starting to look really unhappy—you can see it in the way the corners of his mouth are turned down as far as they can go, even if that isn't very far. "THE FLAVOR IS IMPRESSIVE!! BUT, UH…WELL…" He raises his fork to his mouth again, but you can see his hands trembling faintly as he does, even with his thick gloves. 

You shake your head and gesture at him to put his fork down. If he doesn't want to eat it, it's okay! You glance wildly around the table; the others are staring at the two of you instead of eating, and now that you look at it, none of them have eaten more than a few bites, nowhere near as much as you have. None of them looks as upset as Papyrus, though, and now he's staring at his fork like he's trying to steel himself to pick it up again. 

Your stomach sinks as you realize that you must have messed up somehow. Is it really that bad? You were just trying to do something nice…

It seems you've failed completely at it. You'd wanted to make dinner for everyone, sure, but you'd chosen spaghetti because it was Papyrus's favorite, and not only does everyone hate it, it seems he hates it most of all. You might even have ruined their homecoming, you think despairingly. Your throat is hurting a little bit, and you bite your lips between your teeth to stop them from trembling. 

"FRISK..." Papyrus says. He's having trouble meeting your gaze.

You shake your head. "You don't have to eat it," you manage. 

"IT'S NOT THAT! IT'S REALLY GOOD! IT'S JUST THAT...AHH!"

Suddenly he jumps out of his chair and bounces up and down on the balls of his feet, gloved hands patting frantically at his torso. You stare, and to one side you hear Sans snort quietly. You glance at him, but he's watching Papyrus. 

Then you see what he's staring at—a few strands of spaghetti are slipping slowly out of the opening where Papyrus's armor meets his spine. For a second, you wonder wildly whether he was trying to hide away food in his armor rather than eat it, but then Sans grins sympathetically in your direction, and suddenly it all makes sense. You kind of want to laugh a little now, even though you still feel terrible.

"OH NO!! MY BATTLE BODY!!!" Papyrus laments. 

"might wanna get that cleaned up, bro," Sans says. "here, i'll help. tori, mind if we use your bathroom?"

Toriel looks caught somewhere between distress and amusement. "Of course you may," she tells them, and Sans pushes a still-frantic Papyrus down the hall and into the bathroom. A few more bits of half-chewed spaghetti splat onto the floor before they get there. 

Undyne, Alphys, Asgore and Toriel look at each other, and then at you. Finally, Undyne snorts. You manage a wavering smile in her direction. 

"Who'd have thought he'd be such a total weenie!?" she says, cackling. "Frisk, it tastes great! You didn't burn it or anything! Maybe missing a little danger, but that's more your style anyway!!"

You frown down at her plate. 

"W-well," she admits, still grinning but now sweating a little herself, "it's really good, but it's pretty filling, you know? Even I might not be able to finish my whole plate!!"

"Indeed," Asgore says. "Perhaps it's because this is human food? I haven't had anything so satisfying in quite a while, but a little goes a long way!"

You're a little suspicious about this, but they all seem perfectly sincere. There's a slurping sound from the end of the table, and Alphys sets down her bowl with a toothy grin. 

"W-well, I don't know about yours, Frisk, but these noodles are great!" Alphys enthuses. "Really hit the spot."

"Oh, do you want to try some of mine?" Undyne offers quickly, and Alphys agrees. You watch her carefully as she takes her first bite, but she doesn't make any faces that would make you think it was horrible, and Alphys isn't good at that kind of lying. "They're right," she tells you, chewing thoughtfully. "It really is good! Can I have some more?" 

Undyne looks amused and a little unnerved. "Go ahead," she says, pushing her plate in Alphys's direction. Alphys digs in with enthusiasm. 

"Your appetite for human food is most impressive," Toriel says. Is that what it is, then? Maybe solid food is a little bit rich for monsters in general, as well as being unfortunate for skeletons. 

Alphys swallows quickly. "O-oh, I don't really think so," she says. "I just used to go down to the garbage dump a lot! I found a lot of food down there." She smiles encouragingly at you. "It was never the same, trying to imitate it myself. It's been so long since I had any real instant ramen, I'd almost forgotten what it tastes like…"

You try to explain that this isn't exactly the realest of real ramen, instant or otherwise, since you'd have to be in Japan for that. This devolves into a conversation about how the surface world is _big,_ and Undyne and Alphys start trading ideas for places they'd like to go. It's a little bit like helping them pick out a date, and surprisingly enjoyable. You're feeling a lot better by the time Sans returns to his seat at the table. 

"he's, uh, still cleaning up," Sans said, jerking his bony thumb over his shoulder toward the bathroom door. "he's just a bit embarrassed, i think. he never meant to be a _sauce_ of distress or anything. "

You smile a little at the pun before staring moodily down at your plate. You manage to mumble something out about how you didn't know skeletons couldn't eat human food and you're really, really sorry. 

"nah. we can eat human food, in theory—at least, i know i can. i've been experimenting." He winks at you. "but if we don't concentrate...well, it just sorta goes everywhere. paps doesn't like food as much as i do, so it's probably harder for him." 

When Papyrus eventually comes out again, both he and his armor look more than a little damp. You have a little trouble looking him in the face, but it helps when you realize he's having trouble looking at you, too. 

"Sorry," you get out. "I didn't know that would happen." 

"NEITHER DID I," Papyrus admits. "I'M SORRY I COULDN'T GREET YOUR DELICIOUS HUMAN SPAGHETTI WITH THE ENTHUSIASM IT DESERVES! BEFORE TODAY, I NEVER MET A SPAGHETTI I DIDN'T LIKE...BUT ALAS, IT SEEMS OUR CULINARY PATHS WERE DESTINED TO DIVERGE."

The thought makes you a little sad, so you offer to cook monster spaghetti with him from time to time. That's something you can both enjoy together, right?

"NO, FRISK!" he says firmly. "HUMANS NEED TO EAT FOOD THAT'S FOR HUMANS IN ORDER TO GROW UP BIG AND STRONG! THEREFORE I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL STUDY THE ART OF HUMAN SPAGHETTI-MAKING. NEXT TIME, I WILL TREAT YOU!!!"

You smile and nod your agreement. That also works. 

Dinner wraps up fairly quickly after that, and you start putting the leftover spaghetti into containers as the monsters discuss their plans. Each of them is going to spend the night at their own house, except for Alphys, whose lab hasn't been rebuilt yet. She's the one who asked for the delay, apparently, and she nervously assures Asgore not to worry about it when he asks what she'll do until she's ready for it to be rebuilt. Undyne jumps in immediately and says that of course Alphys is staying with her, and Alphys goes bright red with embarrassment and excitement. You're happy for both of them. 

Papyrus and Sans seem to have recovered well enough from the evening as well, and they leave arguing over whether Sans will make any effort to keep their new house clean whatsoever. (On the contrary, he seems to be actively working on plans to build another self-sustaining trash tornado.) Once they've left, Asgore realizes he's the only one still imposing on Toriel and makes a quick and courteous exit, promising you that he'll talk to you more soon. He shakes your hand very solemnly before he leaves. You're still not completely sure what to make of him.

Once they're all gone and the house has gone silent, you curl up against Toriel in her large, comfortable armchair, tired and still a bit upset, and she reads you a chapter of her book of snail facts before sending you off to bed.

* * *

It's an hour or two later when you hear a faint knock on the door. You're still sleepily trying to figure out if you imagined it—you're not quite awake, but not asleep yet either—when it opens softly. You automatically feign sleep, keeping your breaths visibly slow and even. 

You hear an odd sound, like something hard is being set down on the carpeted floor, and then, after a pause, you hear the sound of the door shutting again. You take a couple more even breaths, just to be on the safe side. Has Toriel come to visit you? You brace yourself not to jump if you feel a hand on your shoulder.

But nothing like that happens, and after a while you make yourself yawn and stretch lazily while turning over. Your theatrics prove unnecessary, since there's no one in the room after all. Instead, there's a plate on the floor with a slice of pie on it. You can smell a faint hint of butterscotch and cinnamon.

You pull the covers back and get out of bed, sitting down on the floor in front of the plate. (You aren't sure whether you're allowed to eat in bed; it sounds like a mess just waiting to happen, and you already caused enough of a mess today, intentionally or not.) You lift the slice of pie carefully to your mouth and take a bite. 

There's nothing like monster food, especially when it's cooked by an expert in fire-magic. You can feel Toriel's love and reassurance flood your body as the buttery, faintly spicy sweetness of the pie dissolves on your tongue. You eat the whole thing in a handful of bites, lick off your fingers, and return to bed. You fall asleep in minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the stuff in here was important to the overall plot, I promise. But by the next chapter, or maybe the one after that, things should get flashier. 
> 
> Please feel free to comment with any thoughts or suggestions! I did some experimenting with how I handled Frisk talking in this chapter, for instance, and I’d love to hear people’s thoughts on how it worked. Reminders to hurry up and post more chapters already are also welcome, at least for the moment.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Looking for Edge Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk is still figuring out where they belong in the lives the monsters are building on the surface. Some of the more obvious possibilities are starting to fall through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapter titles are getting more and more half-assed, so it's probably best just to ignore them. XP
> 
> There's a lot of exposition in this chapter too; I'm trying to cut down on it a little, but I haven't managed to kick the habit quite yet. I think I did manage to fit a bit more plot into this chapter, though, between the exposition dumps. 
> 
> Also, thank you so much to everyone who's left kudos or reviews, or subscribed to this story. It's great to know that people are interested!

Life on the surface settles into an uneasy routine after the first couple of days. Asgore, Undyne, and usually Papyrus spend roughly half their time outside the town, talking to the humans; Toriel's busy with the town's infrastructure, and Sans is off doing...whatever he wants, really, usually a mix of odd jobs and pranks. You don't ever expect to see him in the same place twice, and usually you don't. 

Alphys is the only one you know how to find on a regular basis, but she's busy a lot of the time, so you spend most of your time wandering around the village, talking to the monsters living there and occasionally helping with a task or testing out a puzzle. There aren't as many puzzles being built on the surface as there had been in the underground, but there are some monsters who don't want to give up on them entirely. They're pretty fun. 

You also spend a fair amount of time with Monster Kid. It seems like they're always excited about something, even if their new favorite role model is out of town a lot, and every day with them feels like an adventure, almost like you're back in the underground again. You talk to different monsters, and play hide and seek and tag, and eat lunch together. They're intrigued by the human-food sandwiches Toriel makes you every day, and you can usually convince them to eat half. You don't remember sandwiches being so filling, but some days you just don't feel like eating an entire one. 

All the monsters in town are very, very busy. They were tired at first because of the magical drain of building the city, but now they're constantly trying to put it back together, sturdier the second time. You told Papyrus the story of the Three Little Pigs and the Big Bad Wolf the other day, and he said that it was a lot like how things were for monsters. Winter's coming fast this year, and you've already woken up to a film of half-melted of snow on the roofs, though you have yet to see it falling. If there were a heavy storm, it's possible that some of the buildings might collapse in the onslaught. It's not like monster architecture has had much experience with weather, after all. 

Because of how preoccupied everyone is, you’re left to your own devices pretty often. Some days you can’t even find Monster Kid, and those days you usually end up in the forest near the village, climbing the occasional tree and napping. It’s a bit cold to sleep outside, but Toriel’s been making sure you dress warmly, and the cool air feels relaxing after a bit of exercise. 

You know where to find Toriel if you need to, which is lucky, since she still isn’t too good at answering her phone. There's a building at the center of town that looks like it was modeled after the throne room, though it's quite a bit smaller than the original, and it has a ceiling instead of a garden inside—it’s there that she spends most of her time. When she's with you, though, she really only talks about the school she wants to set up. She's adamant that she wants human children to at least have a chance to visit the village, but no steps have been made on that yet. Asgore's the one focusing on diplomacy, after all. 

You ask Toriel one night whether she wants to go talk with the humans alongside Asgore, and she just shakes her head grimly. 

"I...wish that I felt ready to try it, my child," she says. "But I spent so many years being angry at humans...my former husband spent years killing any human that crossed his path, but I know now that his anger died in him longer ago than he is willing to admit. No, he is better suited to talking with the humans in power. I fear that I would only be in the way." 

Eventually, Asgore asks Toriel (or rather, he has one of his underlings ask her) to act as a representative for the monster community to talk to the locals. He'd like to make sure the people living near Mt. Ebott are as comfortable as possible with the monsters nearby.

Maybe it's only bigger politics that brings out Toriel's angry side, because while she seems reluctant at first, she quickly warms to the idea of getting to know the locals. She'd already returned to the grocery store a couple of times to pick up food for you, and to continue negotiations with the manager about how she'd repay him. Apparently the cashiers there are all smitten with her, and she reports that the other shoppers, though surprised, have so far been perfectly polite. That said, though, both sides seem a bit reluctant to progress beyond conversation, so you recommend that she take some pictures of the village to show to any humans that might be interested. Maybe she could even invite a few of them to see the village.

She’s pleased by the suggestion, and you hear her on the phone that night, talking to Asgore about it. She leaves the next morning with a purposeful glint in her eye. 

You leave the house like normal and wander around for a little while, trying to decide what to do. You decide to spend the day with Alphys, since she’s ranting online about anime and therefore probably has time on her hands. You don’t see Monster Kid today, so you go to her lab by yourself.

* * *

Alphys’s new lab looks very different from the old one; it's smaller, for one thing, and for another it doesn't have a secret basement full of dubious experiments. Instead, there’s a home theater. You're glad Alphys decided to ask for that for herself, because she really seems to enjoy movie nights with Undyne. And Mettaton. And you, for that matter. She even worked up the courage to invite Asgore, but her turned her down gently, explaining that he just had too much to do at the moment. 

She keeps irregular hours, to be sure, but when she's not watching anime, Alphys is working as hard as anybody else. Toriel fired her as the Royal Scientist, but after that Asgore placed her in charge of a team effort to extend the power lines from the CORE to the village on the surface. When you knock on the door, she only takes about a minute to answer, which is another sign she’s not too busy today; when she’s preoccupied with a project, sometimes she forgets to answer the door altogether. 

“Frisk!” she says when her door slides open. “I didn’t think you’d come here today! I’m not doing anything too interesting today, but it’s important, so if you want to watch…?”

You nod. Alphys seems a bit more relaxed than usual, so maybe something good happened. You look around for clues as you follow her inside. 

“Undyne isn’t here today,” she said, noticing. “It’s just me. …Well, okay, it’s me and Mettaton. Sort of. His body, anyway. I-I’m fixing it up for him! I think I might have come up with a way to extend the battery life, so that he can go more than a few hours without charging.”

The dusty old blueprints have been removed from the work table, and Mettaton’s EX body lies partly disassembled on top of it. Next to it is Alphys’s worn-looking desktop computer and lizard mug, which is full of soda, as always. 

Alphys makes it back to her table and tinkers for a few minutes, while you find a chair, pull it up, and watch. She goes back and forth between blueprints, the body itself, and the computer, either for a quick social media update or because she's looking something up there. It doesn't seem very efficient, switching like that all the time, but it seems to work for her. 

You can understand what Undyne means, about how Alphys is passionate; she's so invested in what she's doing that it's interesting to watch her doing it, even if you can't really do much to help. 

"O-oh!" Alphys says after a couple of minutes, startling you. "I forgot to ask if you want tea! ...Do you want tea? Or something else? I have soda—the human kind, too! Undyne brought some for me."

You wonder when Undyne had the opportunity to get Alphys something like that, but you just shake your head and point at the monster teabags. Alphys nods and goes to set the kettle on. You follow, wondering if she'd like you to help. Offering tea might be a habit she picked up from Undyne, but Alphys doesn't expect you to stay in your seat like Undyne would, and that's fine by you. 

"W-we just need to wait for the water to boil," Alphys says, once she's set the full kettle on the stove and stares at it impatiently. You watch her clawed hands clench and unclench on the oven door handle, and wonder whether she’s going to say what she obviously wants to. 

"Oh, uh," Alphys says eventually. You wait for her to continue. The water still hasn't boiled. "I...did I ever tell you about Mettaton? How he...uh, happened?"

You shrug. She hasn't told you, but that doesn't mean you don't know. You bought the key from Bratty and Catty, after all. 

"Well. I finally told Asgore the truth about that, too." She laughs, and the sound is a little hollow. "I figured since he knew about the rest of it already, why not finish it off? It wasn't like he could get _more_ disappointed..."

She straightens a bit and bites her lip. “I told Asgore that Mettaton was a soul that I created after making his body, but that wasn’t true. Mettaton used to be a ghost; I just put him into the body. We agreed that we’d keep that part a secret…but I think that probably, I pushed him into it?”

You nod. You hadn’t been sure, but you’d suspected that she’d told Asgore something like that. 

“Well…he got tired of hiding. He said he wanted to work with Napstablook and Shyren again, and it wasn’t fair to make him keep lying to them.” She sighs. “He was right.” 

The water’s boiling, but you don’t think it’s the right time to point that out. Instead, you reach out and take one of Alphys’s hands in both of your own. She jerks a little, surprised, and she looks down at you in surprise. Clearly, she was really sad about this; even though she knows you’re her friend, she’s forgotten that you’re here for her no matter what she did in the past. You hug her again, gentle but insistent, and you feel her take a shuddering breath. 

“Oh, the water’s boiling…!” she says, her head still hooked over your shoulder. You pull yourself back and out of her way while she pours the hot water into a mug and adds a teabag. It’s the same kind Asgore usually makes. You take the mug carefully by the handle and carry it back to your chair, setting it on an unoccupied corner of Alphys’s desk. 

“B-but…” she begins again, and then the words come pouring out of her, even as she picks up her tools and resumes working on Mettaton’s EX form. “Because I told Asgore, now Mettaton can tell whoever he wants! And he doesn’t have to worry about hiding away in his body when it’s powered down. I…uh…kind of locked him in at first, on accident. Mostly on accident. I didn’t know what I was doing yet, and…well…okay, I could have tried to figure it out faster, but. Uh. The point is that I’ve figured it out now! So he’s out spending time with his family, probably. They thought he’d disappeared.” 

She pauses, and looks over at you seriously. You get the feeling that suddenly this is more than just idle gossip, even by Alphys’s expansive definition of “gossip.” “That happens with ghosts, you know. Sometimes they don’t even leave dust behind when they go, they just sort of…vanish. …They’re probably really happy that he’s okay.” 

She trails off, then shrugs and returns to her work. 

You think about how Napstablook’s tears could burn the souls of humans and the bodies of monsters, and wonder whether he’s always fought like that. Then you imagine disappearing from your loved ones’ lives without a trace, so that there’s not even a sign that you’d gone. …The thought’s upsettingly familiar, so you try to stop thinking about it, watching Alphys instead.

* * *

You sit like that for a few hours, with occasional bursts of conversation about little things around the town and some of the saga of Alphys’s ongoing efforts to increase the bandwidth of the Undernet’s wifi on the surface. It’s fun, and you’re giggling silently over Alphys’s latest rant about Mew Mew Kissy Cutie—you’ve heard all her arguments, but she doesn’t get tired of making them—when you hear the door crash open. 

You jump, but a second later you realize who it is. It looks like Undyne hasn’t managed to destroy the front door, luckily, but she did throw it open hard enough that she had to catch it on the rebound. She doesn’t look very angry, though, just preoccupied. 

“Hey, uh, Alphys?” she says, eyes on her boots as she stomps into the lab. “I need to…oh." She looks surprised to see you. "Hey, kid." 

Undyne has always been a bit of an open book, at least whenever her helmet's not on. Right now, she looks...you're a little scared of the look on her face. She looks a little…defeated.

You hurry over to her, looking up at her anxiously. 

"Hey, what are you doing?" she asks. "Is there something on my face?"

You tilt your head a little, trying to convey your concern with your eyes. "What's wrong?"

Behind you, you hear a sad little gasp from Alphys, like you're confirming her own worries. You hadn't meant to make her anxious, but the way that Undyne looks away and runs her hand over her slicked-back hair tells you that both of you have cause for concern. "Well...I'm probably overreacting," she begins. You draw her over to the chair you were sitting in and grab another of her own, and she's distracted enough that she doesn't tell Alphys off for not doing it for you; she examines her fingers minutely while Alphys quietly goes to make her a cup of tea, obviously waiting for Undyne to begin. 

"I...NGAHHH!" Undyne bursts out. "I can't believe I was so naïve!!! I should've KNOWN that everything wouldn't be easy!! And I trust Asgore to figure it all out, but..." She falls silent again, moodily looking over the office. You wonder if she wants something to beat up. She's been so busy guarding Asgore whenever he leaves the village...has she had time to train the way she usually does? 

"D-do you want to t-talk about it?" Alphys asks, carrying in two mugs of tea. She hands one to you, and even though you've already had one, you blow on it dutifully.

Undyne, true to form, takes a huge gulp of the stuff right away, even though it's still really hot. "I'm not sure how much of it I should tell," she admits. "But Frisk...you're supposed to be an ambassador, right? And I trust you, Alphys. So…did either of you hear about how the former queen wanted to invite some humans into the town?"

Your heart sinks. That had been partly your idea. 

"Maybe,” Alpys says, frowning. "Did that scare the humans off? Do they think we want to hurt them?"

Undyne's eyes are shadowed as she stares into the depths of her half-empty mug. "They haven't gotten the chance to hear about it yet," she says. "There are some monsters who really, really don't want it to happen. They sent a message to Asgore. I don't even know who it was, but..." She shakes her head. "You should have seen the look on his face." 

Alphys's claws clench into fists, and she looks scared. 

"But...why?" you ask. 

She grimaced. "I wish I knew. I'd like to give them a piece of my mind! I hate humans just as much as the next monster—present company excepted, of course!—bu we’re up here to make peace with them! Not start another war by being distant!!” 

You nod. You’ve always known Undyne hated humans—it was one of the first things you learned about her—and given that she’s being surprisingly level-headed. 

“But...it's not really my call,” she continues. “Whatever it is that’s gone wrong, we'll just have to have faith that Asgore can fix it. The queen too, maybe."

You nod. That makes sense to you. 

Undyne starts a little, and looks down at you. "Oh, right, Frisk. That reminds me—I didn't think I'd be seeing you today, but Asgore mentioned something. To Toriel, too, but I'd feel bad if I didn't tell you." 

Something in you shrinks a little. What now? Is it more bad news?

She doesn't look apprehensive now, though—just sort of uncomfortable. "Asgore told you he wanted you to be an ambassador, right? Well...he said he wants to hold off on that a little longer, at least for now. And, uh...maybe avoid going with the queen to the human town for now, okay?"

You hesitate, and then nod again. If Asgore thinks it's important to wait, you're fine with waiting. 

"Uh..." Alphys says, careful, "Why is that?"

"Ehh..." Now she looks more uncomfortable. "Something about how they might ask questions about why we're keeping a human child with us. He wants to make you a naturalized citizen, once we have legally recognized borders. Or that's what he's planning at the moment, anyway." She shrugged. "Just in case the humans try to argue that you're some kind of hostage. We know better, but they might not." 

You're shaking a little bit now. You wouldn't have noticed before, maybe—you spent a lot of time stressed and scared over the past several weeks, so you’ve gotten good at ignoring it—but it's been quiet now, and you've started looking inside yourself and wrestling your way through everything that’s happened. You feel safer with Toriel in Ebott Town than you have in a long time, and it's been a helpful starting point. So you’re starting to do things like shake again even when you’re not scared of dying. 

When you decided to stay with Toriel, it was partly because you'd figured out that you really, really didn't want to go back to the humans—not with the friends you’ve made here. And you're just now realizing that part of the reason you're scared to talk to the humans again is because you're afraid they’re going to make you leave. 

"...Frisk...?" 

It's Alphys who speaks, slightly to your surprise. But then, she bottles things up all the time, right? She's probably better at recognizing what that looks like. 

It's a little bit silly how scared you are. 

"HEY!" Undyne says suddenly, making you jump. "You don't ACTUALLY think you're a hostage, do you?!? Toriel said you wanted to stay here!!"

"...I _do_ ,” you say, quickly; then, to make sure she doesn’t misunderstand, you add, quietly, “I want to stay.” You wrap your hands tightly around your mug because you're worried you might drop it; it’s hot enough to hurt a little under your stiff fingers. 

"Then what's the problem?!" Undyne demands. "Are you disappointed? You'll just have to be patient, that's all." 

"No," you say, and then work through what it is you're trying to get at. It just doesn't want to come out, and you shake your head, frustrated. 

"We want to help, Frisk," Alphys says. "Can you explain it to us?" 

Undyne reaches over and takes the mug out of your hands, looking cursorily over your hands. They're a little pink, but nothing else. You wait for her to set the mug down and then reach out shyly. You're not sure how Undyne feels about cuddling, but she scoops you up like it's no issue at all and sets you on her forearm. You feel like a little kid, and lay your face against her shoulder. 

"I think Asgore's right," you say eventually. 

"Oh," Alphys says, watching you. She'd been a bit starry-eyed for a minute there, probably at how strong Undyne is, but then you see it dawn on her. “ _Oh._ ” Her voice gets gentler. "Do you think the humans will try to take you back?" 

You feel Undyne's arms stiffen, and you turn your face into her bicep and nod. "Maybe," you mumble. It seems like the sort of thing a responsible grown-up would do, after all.

"...Well then," Undyne says after a moment. "Don't feel bad about it, Frisk! We'll find something else for you to do in the meantime." 

That sounds like a good idea. Undyne carries you home, Alphys trailing after her, as they argue over the anime they’ve been watching. It sounds interesting, but Alphys has told you that Toriel probably wouldn’t approve of you watching it. 

You shut your eyes and feel yourself drifting off, and when you wake up again, you’re in your bed. You consider getting up, but it’s dark out, so you turn over and promise yourself that you’ll talk with Toriel about everything tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. A Kind of Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk returns to the Underground with Asgore, Undyne, Sans, and Papyrus, and finds that it is changing.

When you pad out of your bedroom the next morning, Toriel isn't the only one in the house; Asgore is sitting at the kitchen table, looking distinctly uncomfortable. You climb up onto your usual chair and wait for him to say something. Toriel comes in with a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice and hands them to you without comment. Usually you help her get breakfast together, but if she’s giving it to you, it probably means that Asgore wants to talk to you. It also means Toriel agreed to let him. 

"Frisk," he begins as you start eating. He seems relieved that you're not only focused on him now, so you keep your ears open and focus on breakfast. "I...may have been hasty in my request for you to be our ambassador. I may offer again, when our relations with the humans seem more stable, but in the meantime, I have a different question for you." 

You nod and wait, taking another bite of cereal. 

"The question is this. Would you be willing to be named a legal citizen of Ebott Town and surrounding territories? I can attempt to make you a dual citizen if you'd prefer, but—"

You cut him off with a headshake, and then another nod. He seems taken aback. "You—then you wish to become a monster citizen? Are sure that is what you want?"

You nod a third time. 

"Oh." He blinks. "That was...surprisingly easy. In that case, I'll see what I can do."

You start eating again. To both of your surprise, Toriel comes by with a mug and sets it in front of Asgore, then sits down herself with a plateful of scrambled snails. "In that case, Frisk," she asks, "what do you want to do for now? I would hate to think that you are feeling left out. You seem like such an industrious child."

That's a slightly odd way of putting it maybe, but it suits her. You shrug—you’re still trying to figure that out yourself. Casting about for another subject to break the awkward silence, you remember something else that Undyne said the night before that bothered you. "The monsters that don't want humans to visit," you say. "Who are they?"

"Ah," Asgore says. He looks a little taken aback that you know about that, but he recovers quickly. "I'm afraid that I don't precisely know. The first I heard about it was yesterday."

"You have not been observing your subjects well, then, Asgore," Toriel says. She doesn't even sound particularly angry, just civilly disappointed. "Is it really so surprising that some would harbor resentment toward the humans, after all we have suffered?" 

"But there's so much hope, now that everyone's on the surface," Asgore protests. "Even the angrier monsters seem to have been placated by our freedom.”

"Clearly not entirely," Toriel says. "It would not be hard to argue that humans have no place in the home we are trying to make for ourselves."

Asgore's paws rub absently around the rim of his mug. "But that's just it," he says. "Nobody has tried to argue anything. I received an unsigned letter, and all that was written inside was a demand not to allow humans to visit us." He picks it up, takes a careful sip, eyes glued to the tablecloth. "Do you think..." he begins nervously, “should I try to hold a meeting? Convince whoever wrote the letter to come and talk to us, so that we can ease their fears?" 

"If you continue to ask my advice, Dreemurr," Toriel says pleasantly, "then I will begin charging you a consultation fee." 

"I'll hire you full-time," Asgore says immediately. "I could use your help with this, To—Toriel. You've always been better than me at this sort of thing."

It's a bit like watching a tennis match. Your eyes dart back and forth as you pretend to be invisible in the hope that they'll resolve whatever they're arguing about. You're not sure why Toriel has switched from glares to aggressive tea-making, but somehow it's no less intimidating. Maybe it's like what happened with Undyne, you think. Maybe monsters have very strict rules for courtesy to enemies. 

She sighed. "Very well. I will not spend all my time helping you, but I will be willing to lend a hand from time to time, if only with advice."

Asgore sighed. "Thank you."

She nods, acknowledging his thanks. ”Have you been able to trace the source of the letter?"

"Not yet," he said. "It was delivered to us by a hooded monster who refused to say who had asked for it to be delivered. They seemed friendly enough other than that, though." 

"Have the Royal Guard investigate it."

"Undyne seemed at a loss—"

"The ones with a _strong sense of smell,_ Asgore."

"Ah." He looks a little sheepish. (You're slightly amused by the pun in that—the king’s _sheepishness_ , that is—and normally you'd say it aloud, but this probably isn't the best moment.) "I will do that as my first order of business."

"Be polite if you do come across the ones who wrote the letter,” she says. "Though I suspect I need hardly remind you of that much." 

"No." He finishes his tea and sets it down, then gets up to leave. "Well then, if you'll excuse me...Toriel, I know where to find you should I have need of your advice." 

"I will write up a contract for you shortly," Toriel informs him. "And an invoice." 

"Of course," he says, looking pained. Then he turns to you. "Frisk, do you have any plans for the day?" 

Instead of speaking, you hold up a finger as you finish the last of your cereal. Then you dash to the kitchen, put your dishes in the sink, rinse them out briefly, and dash out again. He hasn't left in the meantime, so you wrap one hand around the hem of his cloak and look up at him. 

"Oh," he says, looking surprised. "Would you like to come with me today?” 

Ever since you all reached the surface, Asgore has been busy reaching out to the humans, and he's the only monster you've fought that you haven't really had the chance to befriend. If you can't try to win over the humans right now, you figure, you might as well get to be better friends with the monsters you know. 

You nod firmly. 

"Very well," he says. "I am sure that Undyne and Papyrus will be happy to see you." 

You saw Undyne just yesterday, but you haven't seen Papyrus for a couple of days. You smile. 

"Now, do you need anything? A coat?"

Oh. Probably. You hurry over to the closet and pull down the coat that Toriel has given you, human acrylic and polyester that shelters you very effectively from the growing chill. When you return to Asgore's side, he chuckles and scoops you up, depositing you on one wide shoulder. You steady yourself with a carefully loose grip on one of his horns, eyes wide. Toriel raises an eyebrow at him, but she still smiles a bit when she catches your eye. 

"I want them home well before dinner," she says. "Don't lose track of the time." 

"I won't," he promises. "I'll take good care of them, Tori."

You wince a little at his slip, but he turns and leaves right afterward. If Toriel noticed, she probably decided that it wasn't worth the trouble.

* * *

Papyrus is ecstatic to see you when you arrive with Asgore. "FRISK!" He calls cheerfully, and you wave at him with a big grin. He looks very important: his armor looks like it's gotten a polish, and even his raggedy cloak seems to have received some care. 

Sans looks pleased to see you, too, in his usual laid-back way. He waves in your direction, and you share a grin with him as you sidle up behind Asgore. 

Undyne looks a little concerned at first, which is uncharacteristic of her, but when you give her a thumbs-up she gives you her best sharp-toothed grin. “HEY THERE, SHRIMP!” she yells, and swings you down from Asgore's shoulder before tossing you into the air. You squeal a little, unsettled by the feeling of weightlessness, but she catches you easily under your arms and spins you around to slow your momentum before setting you down. You stagger briefly, and she laughs at you. Papyrus gives you a sympathetic look, and when Undyne sees it, she asks if he wants a turn. He turns it down vociferously, and you giggle at both of them. Without further ado, you all set out together. 

As soon as the aboveground village could spare them, some of Hotland's old puzzle-workers were recruited to build a more convenient route down to the Underground. For the most part, it fulfills its role well, but with the influence of centuries of tradition, it's not surprising that they've built a few puzzles into the route out of sheer habit. Papyrus finds a word puzzle on your way down and tries to shout it into submission, until Sans tricks him into turning his back long enough to slide the necessary letters into place. Papyrus seems confused, but reluctantly accepts Sans's praise, and the group continues on. 

Undyne almost obliterates a rock puzzle. You stay well out of the way as she does. 

On a puzzle that requires jumping between steam-powered platforms, Sans and Undyne both bow out—Sans because it's too much effort, and Undyne because the platforms make her sick. You take the opportunity to be useful. You're much smaller than Papyrus or Asgore, and you got used to the vents from the times you spent going back and forth through Hotland. You retraced your steps frequently while you were there: looking for hints on how to get back to the surface, running errands for Undyne or Alphys, or just running back to get more bicicles from Snowed Inn when you ran out (they were your favorite), so you got pretty good at them, but since leaving you’ve gotten a little bit rusty at the logic side of it. 

You figure your way through eventually, though the switches give you trouble for a minute or two. Despite what Undyne and Papyrus probably think, their simultaneous yelling of contradictory advice doesn't actually make the process any faster. You're panting by the time you're done with the puzzle, but you're laughing, too. A bridge appears to allow the others to cross, fortunately for Undyne. 

The path ends in a little side chamber near the throne room, not far from the room with the coffins. You avoid looking in that direction as you follow Asgore down the hallway, and to your surprise he walks, not out into the city, but into his throne room. 

Compared to the light of the surface, the light in the throne room seems a little bit less dazzling. Bu the sound of the breeze rustling through the flowers is the same, as is the abundance of birdsong. You shut your eyes for a few seconds and just breathe in, enjoying the smell from the flowers. You should be sick of the sight of golden flowers by now, maybe, but here they just seem beautiful and peaceful. 

Asgore seems to agree, as across the room he settles himself down in his throne and groans. "That was quite the adventure!" he chuckles. "I'll be glad to settle in here for a bit." 

You're a bit confused; you thought he was going back to the Underground to go around talking to monsters. 

"Having Mettaton announce that you would take petitioners was a good idea," Undyne says. "I'll go get the first batch of 'em!"

"Oh, before you do, will you check with the kitchens?" Asgore asks. "I'd like to make sure there's enough tea for everyone who might want some." 

Undyne chuckles. "Got it! You can count on me!" She waves one last time at you before leaving the throne room, her armored feet echoing menacingly down on the hard floor of the hallway beyond. Asgore, meanwhile, pulls out a sheaf of paper from some hidden compartment of his throne and begins to peer at them, shuffling through them occasionally. 

Papyrus is shuffling his feet awkwardly and edging towards the door, Sans in tow. You look between the brothers and Asgore, who's worrying at his furry chin with his teeth, and make a decision. You go to Asgore and tug a little at his hem, pointing at the door and making an apologetic face. 

"Oh, of course you may go, Frisk," he says, his expression understanding. "I doubt this will be very interesting! Just try to be back in plenty of time for me to get you back before nightfall, okay?"

You nod vigorously and give him a small smile. You haven't given up on your plan to get to spend time with him, after all. You'd wanted to spend the day with him today, but you’re getting the sense that there isn’t much you can do here. It seems that grown-up business is still too monotonous and complicated for you, even when the grown-ups in question are monsters instead of humans. 

Instead, you follow Sans and Papyrus out of the throne room and ask them what they’ll be doing. 

“OUTREACH!” Papyrus says proudly. “WE WILL SERENADE THE MONSTERS ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE UNDERGROUND ABOUT THE WONDERS OF THE SURFACE! THANKS TO US, THEY WILL BE FILLED WITH WONDER AND GRATITUDE, AND WILL RUSH TO JOIN US THERE!“

“yep, that's the idea,” Sans says.

It sounds like fun to you. You point at yourself and make a questioning face. You’re meant to be an ambassador, after all! 

“actually…“ Sans says. "maybe not this time, yeah? we'll try it a bit later, once we've gotten the pr train going.”

You frown at him. 

“most of the monsters out there have never seen a human,“ he explains, and then winks. "might be best not to frisk it.“ 

You giggle at the pun (Papyrus screeches and herds you along at a quicker pace), and promise them that you won't go anywhere you haven't already been. There should be plenty for you to explore anyway; you’ve grown quite attached to your former Underground haunts, and you’re sure plenty has changed since you left them behind. It feels oddly like coming home, and even being in the palace has put a spring in your step that you haven’t felt in weeks. 

You part ways with them easily enough. They aren't worried for your safety; you made friends throughout Hotland, Waterfall, and Snowdin before leaving, and besides, you survived just fine on your own even before they'd all come to trust you. 

Besides, it increasingly grows on you as you as you walk that there aren’t very many monsters left in the underground anyway, or at least not many in the parts of it you’re familiar with. 

You make your way through the capital, and your mood starts to drop, because it feels like a ghost town. Whole districts of it are already falling apart, in the quiet way unique to magical buildings. They crack and crumble, but don't leave debris in their wake. You wonder if they make any noise when they fall. 

You pass several of the twinkling lights that let you SAVE before, but you give those a wide, careful berth.

The wave of heat outside the Core makes you briefly dizzy as you leave the old New Home behind, but it's comforting, too. You use the elevator and make a beeline for the river; it's always cooler there. 

It doesn't occur to you until you're almost there that the river people might be gone; you wouldn't be surprised if they'd moved aboveground, since it seemed that more monsters were leaving the underground everyday. But no, it turns out that the ferry is still there. 

The person steering doesn’t comment as you board aside from asking where you’d like to go, and the boat's moving slower than usual. That's all right, though; you're in no hurry. You sit back and revel in the cool, close humidity of the cavern here, letting the familiar sound of lapping water wash over you.

"The waters are calm today," the river person says eventually. "They've been doing that a lot lately." 

You wonder why that is, but say nothing. They don't say anything more either, but then they do something you've never seen any of them do before; they step away from their place at the front of the boat and crouch down in front of you instead. A single hand comes up and hesitantly touches your cheek. 

Their hand is not bony, like Sans's or Papyrus's, but instead feels dry and withered against your skin, like old leaves. It's warm, though. You hold very still, but they seem to sense that you are not afraid. 

"Have you been all right, living on the surface?" they ask. 

You blink. Nobody's asked you that so far; everyone's assumed you just belong there. Which, in fairness to them, you do. Or should. 

"I...don't know," you say eventually. It feels surprisingly good to admit that out loud to someone else. 

The river person gives your shoulder a reassuring pat, and then reaches into their robes. They pull out a cloth pouch and press it into your hand. The fabric is silky and cool under your fingers. You look inside and find many bits of something that looks a little like cured meat. You look back up at them.

"Eat a mushroom everyday," they say simply. You cock your head in question. "Why?” they continue, asking for you. Under their hood, you get the feeling that they are giving you a meaningful look. “Then I know you're listening to me..."

They stand up and return to their position at the front of the boat, humming quietly to themselves. You pull out a mushroom and nibble at it carefully; it dissolves on your tongue, tasting of brackish water and sunshine. You decide that you'll take the river person’s advice. The pouch is too large to fit into your pocket, so you push it into your dimensional box instead. 

The ferry takes a long time to make its way down the river to Snowdin, where you've decided to start. As the harbor comes into view in the distance, the river person speaks again, abruptly. "Frisk."

You jump and stand carefully, showing your attention. Even after everything, monsters don’t usually use your name. 

"If things start to go badly for you, and you need a place to go...just say something to one of the ferry operators. The river people will welcome you.” 

You look them over for a long moment, not really sure why they’re saying this, but eventually you nod. The river person seems satisfied with your response, and brings the ferry safely in to harbor. "Come again soon," they say, and wave goodbye as you disembark. You feel their gaze on you as you leave down the path to Snowdin, off to talk to a certain snowman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a pacifist run, bicicles are The Best. I definitely retraced my steps all the way back from Hotland several times just to get more. 
> 
> The mushroom line comes directly from the game, so I kept it as-is (even though the dubious use of “everyday” makes me cringe a little bit). As far as I know, that line doesn’t actually have anything to do with gameplay—there’s only the light-up mushrooms and the memorable one in Temmie village, and none of those seem very edible...
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter’s going to get a bit darker. I’ll try to have it up soon!


	6. Snowfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk makes an unpleasant discovery in the ruins of Snowdin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter! It's been a while, but this chapter was tough to write and took some tweaking. The style might be kind of fragmented, too—I wrote different versions of a bunch of these scenes and then had to try to string all the good bits together, and I'm not sure if it worked or not. 
> 
> Warning for non-graphic but upsetting stuff in his chapter. (Or I think it's upsetting, anyway. Angst is hard to write.) 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me so far!

Snowdin has become a ghost town—and not the fun kind, not like lying on the floor parties with a shy DJ, or flashy sets built to tantalize a distant audience. Instead it disturbs you, because you remember how it was before it was empty. 

The wind in Snowdin never felt quite this cold before, and the whistling between buildings that used to be friendly and playful sounds a little mournful now. The snow crunches and squeaks under your feet, but as much as you missed it and as right as it feels falling gently on you, it's strange to look up and see only dull blackness. Waterfall has things like stars but no real weather, and Snowdin has a kind of weather but no sky, and without the cheer and hope of the monsters who lived there, the entirety of the Underground seems to be getting darker. 

You stand in front of the house of the door that had never opened for you. The stone monsters that had stayed outside are gone, and the door is, too. You catch a glimpse of the room beyond the door, shiver, and turn away. It looks like nobody has lived there for a very long time, even though you remember hearing a pleased sigh the last time you knocked on the door. 

Spooked, you pass the rest of the buildings of the town proper in a rush, eager to check that your snowman friend is all right. You brought the piece of them they gave you to the surface, and you took some photos on your phone to show them. You only ever brought the piece out for a few minutes at a time, to make sure it didn't melt: the temperature outside is still usually above freezing. You think you've taken good care of it. You hope that they'll be pleased with you. 

The snowman's very far away from the city, but once you're past the outskirts the going isn't quite as grim. It was always fairly deserted out here, and you pass the time as you walk through the deactivated puzzles trying to remember news about the monsters that used to live here. 

Most of the dogs in the area are now related through Endogeny, and they've been building one big dogmansion that's visible just about anywhere in the town. The Gyftrots live some distance from the town, in a cave system not far from the Underground. The Snowdrakes are living in an apartment complex that's considerably less showy than the dogmansion, where a lot of the other monsters who have family in Mrs. Snowdrake have also chosen to live. A lot of the monsters from the ruins are there, too. You haven't seen much of the Ice Caps, but it's probably still a bit warm out for them. You're...not really sure where Jerry went, but you're sure he'll turn up eventually. 

Even without the Amalgamates drawing the monsters together, they seem to like moving in groups. It’s been heartening to see them all working together to build a new life in the surface, and it’s part of the reason that you’re concerned for the monsters who have been left behind, if only because of practicality. You get the feeling that loneliness might be an even bigger deal for monsters than it is for humans. 

When you reach the snowman, though, they seem very happy. You tell them stories about where the piece of them has been, and show them a couple of pictures you took on your phone. You offer to return the piece from where it sits safe in your dimensional cell-phone box, but they refuse. 

"Could you keep it, for now?" they ask instead. "It's going to take a little while to get me out, still. I'll feel less restless, knowing that you've got a piece of me already up there." 

You agree to, nodding and smiling. It's been a lot of responsibility, carrying the snowman piece with you; you're glad that they think you've taken good care of it. 

You chat for a little while longer, since you’re bundled up warm enough for the weather not to chill you through too quickly. Besides, it's cheery up here with the company; it's like you're hidden away from the rest of Snowdin up here, like this small corner of the Underground been gently illuminated by its inhabitant's dreams of the surface. 

For always being in the same place, the snowman’s a bit of a gossip, you discover. Or maybe it’s that now they’ve got so many people to talk to and gather information from, given all the monsters that have been visiting with plans to get them to the surface. 

“Not all monsters can move easily,” they explain. “There’s a mushroom in Temmie Village, for instance, that they’re working to dig up safely—and no one’s sure if the Tems even understand what’s going on, let alone whether they actually want to leave.”

That's...not something you'd considered. Monsters are all really, really different from each other—more different than humans are from each other, you think. The Blook family is a solid example, precisely because they're anything but. That there might be some monsters that wouldn't want to come to the surface, you'd considered, or that there might be others who can't move on their own, or still others (Onion-san comes to mind) for whom getting to the surface will be a challenge for physical reasons. But that there might be some monsters that just don't understand at all...whole groups that might not have a concept of living aboveground at all? That you hadn't considered. It's a different kind of challenge. 

Given all of that, it's not too surprising that there might be some monsters who just don't _want_ to live on the surface. Some of the monsters you've met have seemed reluctant, but not like they were going to let anything stop them from coming to the surface...so maybe that none of the monsters seemed to be talking about it until now is part of the problem? 

“It’s a lot quieter around here now,” they add over your musing, “whenever no one is visiting. Sometimes I used to hear the townspeople in the distance, when the wind blew just right. But there isn’t anyone to hear now, not like there was before.” 

You promise them, again, that the monsters will get them out. The idea seems to cheer them, and you spend a little longer talking about the weather atop the mountain, how it's been getting colder and colder and how there's been talk of special climate-controlled houses the rest of the year. They're not exactly used to moving around anyway, so being able to spend even part of the year outdoors appeals to them. 

"I'd like to live somewhere out of the way," they tell you. "It's bad to get stuck in the middle of a snowball fight when you can't move, or get caught in one of the skeleton brothers' pranks, or a puzzle." You can imagine. 

The two of you trade some ideas about living arrangements, but the cold is finally starting to get to you, and you'd like to visit some of the other monsters you've heard about, so you let the conversation draw to a close after a while and step away ruefully, waving goodbye. The snowman's gracious about it, wishing you luck and reminding you to look after their piece. You promise to. 

Talking to the snowman has given you a bit more courage, and on your way back to Snowdin you explore a little. There’s not much to see on the outskirts, even now that you’re looking. But both inside and outside the city, the buildings haven’t really started to crumble yet—they were built to stand up to never-ending, fickle winds, and were looked after with care ever since. So they stand tall and only a little crumbly, waiting for the return of monsters who will probably never come. 

It feels a little desolate, but at the same time, you know that the people who have left have moved on to fulfill their hopes and dreams, and that they still have each other. It makes the empty village feel a little less lonely, and you explore the corners of Grillby’s darkened pub with interest. The broken jukebox was left behind, you note, and you wonder if anyone is going to come back for it. You even find some spare G in one of the booth cushions, and pocket it out of habit. 

You’re considering going through the rest of the buildings—for old times’ sake, and out of curiosity—when you catch an odd flash of color out of the corner of your eye, halfway behind the Librarby. You feel a little self-conscious sneaking behind a building that isn't Sans and Papyrus's house, but something about the color strikes you as familiar. 

The depth of the snow in Snowdin never changes, but it is blown around by the shifting, circular winds, and so only when you bend over and your hand brushes against the oddly-warm fabric do you realize what’s been buried. It’s the monster that used to stay with the mouse in the long scarf, the bright orange one with the jester face who talked about the importance of carrying on in the face of hopelessness. 

They aren't moving. 

You’d liked them, you think numbly. They’d been encouraging to talk to. You aren’t much of one for smiling very often, especially when you don’t feel like it, but it had been nice to think that others did, even if only for the sake of others…

You force yourself to stop jumping to conclusions and look the monster over instead. They're not dead, you're fairly sure, because monsters turn to dust when they die. Or did that not happen right away sometimes? 

You quash down the fear that they’ll crumble right now, right in front of you, and call to them even though you don't know their name. They don't answer. Their body is limp under your hands as you shake them and shout. You hope to draw another monster's attention, but this part of the village is empty, or maybe right now the wind isn’t blowing in the right direction and the snow is muffling your voice. 

The cold of Snowdin never pierced through you this deep before. You wipe your damp hands on your damp pants and rummage in your pockets for your phone. You're glad that Toriel finally forced Sans to give you his number, because you wouldn't want to call Papyrus about something like this. Maybe Undyne, but you're still not sure whether she has a phone of her own, and besides, what if she's doing something important for Asgore?

Your hands want to shake, from your elbows down to your fingertips, but you force them still and steady. It's easy enough; down here you're used to matters of life and death, even if usually the only life you had to worry about was your own. Your contact list isn't long, and you know who to call. Luckily, Toriel made him finally give you his cell phone number not too long ago. 

"Sans," you say as soon as the ringing stops. 

"hey kid," he says. "what's up? something happen?"

"There's a monster," you say, and choke. Swallow, and force yourself to keep going. "I don't know their name, but they're lying on the ground and they aren't moving, they won't look at me—"

"oh," Sans says, and then you hear a muffled sound that may or may not have been a curse. "where are you?"

You relay your location as best you can. 

"got it," he says. "stay where you are. i know a shortcut." 

_Click._

You shiver a little, and look the monster over again. Some of the snow around them has melted, leaving little spots of darker orange on their outfit. There's still a smile on their face. You bend down and listen to their chest, searching for a heartbeat. 

Within a minute, he rounds the corner, with Papyrus right behind him. You hadn't thought Sans would bring him along, but he's there, shifting awkwardly. 

There's dead silence under your ear. 

"what're you listening for?" Under the grimness, Sans's expression is a bit perplexed. "their heart's not gonna shatter just yet." 

"Heartbeat," you mumble. 

"kid, just because the word 'hear' is in there doesn't mean it's audible," he tells you. 

You're confused. For Sans and Papyrus it makes sense, but is Sans seriously expecting you to believe that monster hearts don’t make a sound?

"SANS, NOW ISN'T THE TIME FOR PUNS!" Papyrus says firmly. He doesn't sound mad, just a little disappointed. "…AND THAT WASN'T EVEN A GOOD ONE."

Sans just shrugs as Papyrus kneels beside the monster's body. He settles them gently over his pauldron in a sort of fireman's carry, and sets off. "WE'RE NOT TAKING A 'SHORTCUT' TO GET BACK," he calls over his free shoulder. "KEEP UP!"

"i hear you, bro." 

But Sans waits for you to start moving before he goes anywhere. You fall dutifully into step behind Papyrus, and then hear his voice over your shoulder. 

"don't get me wrong," he says, "hearts are just as important for monsters as they are for humans. but they circulate magic for us, not mostly water. usually you can't see 'em, either, unless you're fighting."

"Oh," you say, to show you heard him, then add, "Human hearts beat." 

You can _hear_ the wink. " maybe that's how you _drum_ up all that determination. "

Ahead of you, Papyrus huffs. "SANS!"

* * *

You follow them. There's nothing else you can do. You aren't taking the ferry this time, you realize dimly; instead the three of you walk all the way to the capital. You wait for another monster to see the four of you and panic, but there's no one else around to see. 

"Hey," Undyne greets you just inside the entrance to the castle, looks at the monster slung over Papyrus's shoulder, and blanches. "Uh...how's it...um." She trails off, hand in her ponytail, and turns to you, face grim. "You're the one that found them, huh." 

It isn't really a question. You nod anyway, and make yourself keep looking at her.

"Good job," she tells you seriously. "If you hadn't, well...maybe no one would've." She puts a hand on your head, fingers ruffling a little too strongly. 

Then she turns to Papyrus. "Here. I'll take them." 

Papyrus hands the monster over, and for a moment you see a flash of the same stoic face she'd worn when she'd first been hunting, before she'd gotten angry. Then she turns away, gone in a few sharp strides. Still, her grip on the monster as she walks away looks gentle. 

You tug Sans's sleeve, and gesture after Undyne with a frown. 

"she knows what she's doing," he said. "there's a plan to help monsters like them. could be hope for 'em yet." 

Sans and Papyrus exchange a look, Papyrus with a pointed frown, like Sans just said something he disapproved of. A pun, maybe? 

Papyrus, to your surprise, reaches up and picks you up, setting you against one very bony hip. 

"WHAT?" he says, seeing you blink up at him. "YOU HAVE WALKED A VERY LONG WAY, HUMAN! YOU MUST BE TIRED!" You shrug, and he grins. "NEVER FEAR! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL RETURN YOU SAFE AND SOUND TO HIS MAJESTY, WITHOUT FAIL!"

You've walked longer than this in a day, but he's right. You're exhausted. You nestle up briefly against his cape where it's wrapped around his neck. The fabric has been worn down to extreme softness, and it's comforting on your skin. 

You don't hear anyone else in the throne room when you arrive, and the faint sounds of birdsong carry across the silence, and on your back you can feel the pale hint of early winter sunshine. 

You're still cuddled up against Papyrus, so you don't see Asgore when he speaks. "Ah...Undyne told me what happened," he says, and then stops, like he's not sure what else he can say. 

"YES! THE HUMAN FOUND AND SAVED A MONSTER WHO HAD FALLEN DOWN," Papyrus says proudly. "NOW THEY'LL BE WELL LOOKED-AFTER!"

But you didn't save them. 

You shift purposefully, and Papyrus sets you down. Asgore gets down on one knee so he's closer to level with you. (He's huge, so his head is still above your own, but it's easier to see his face up-close this way.) You can smell flowers all around. Asgore's eyes are sad but kind. 

"…Are you okay?" he asks finally. 

You bite your lip, and nod. 

He looks like he understands. "You shouldn't..." he sighs. "Frisk. Try not to take it too hard, all right? It’s very sad, but it sometimes it just happens. Just like humans don't live forever." 

"...Why?" the word's a croak, but at least it still comes out. You don't understand. 

"Why...? Oh." His brow furrows. "Monsters depend on our emotions to survive, Frisk. We can sometimes get by with extra food, or sleep, or the company of loved ones, but if we aren't able to fight off despair, then...well." He shrugs. "Monsters grow weak if they lose the will to live." 

"But." Your hands clench into fists. They'd just won freedom, but judging by what Sans had told you this jester wasn't the only monster this had happened to. "Now?"

"...Change is difficult," Asgore says heavily. "Even good change. You need to make adjustments, break your routine, get ready for surprises, disappointments…” He sighed, eyes sorrowful. “Even something wonderful, like returning to the surface, has its difficult parts. And we've been down here for so long that some of us don’t have the strength left for all that anymore.” 

You think about that for a moment, and then realize what it means: that either you hurt these monsters by pulling the only world they know out from under them, or that you were simply too late. The second one isn't your fault, not entirely—but even if you were just a catalyst, you're certainly not blameless. Even if Asgore’s right, and they were already fading…if you hadn’t come along, or if you’d failed, they might have had a little longer to spend together with everyone. They wouldn’t have had to see their homes and towns fall empty. 

"I know it's difficult to accept," Asgore continues. You make yourself look back up at him. "But this was something that was always going to happen, one way or another. Only a few monsters have suffered this fate, and there may yet be a way to save them. There are resources on the surface Alphys never had, after all." 

But Alphys always hated working on the monsters who fell down. You hope that this time Asgore will ask someone else. Maybe Toriel helped him pick someone this time? She seems like a pretty good judge of character. 

"Now, come on," Asgore says, scooping you up one-handed and putting you on one broad shoulder. "I think Toriel would want me to bring you home." 

You're lost in thought as you walk the slow way back to the surface, except where you have to duck with Asgore to get through doorways. All the other monsters are using the elevators, and this path is dim and silent. 

They were _alone_ , you realize, and shiver violently. Asgore's hand comes up and rests warm on your side. You wrap a hand around one of his fingers. 

What do you even remember of them? 

Most of the time after you'd broken the barrier was a bit of a blur to you. It had to have been less than a day, but it felt like it could have lasted a week—especially with the secret in the ruins, which you still held so close to your chest that you tried not even to think about it. But you do remember that when you’d spoken to them again, after everything, they hadn’t had much to say. They'd said they were glad they didn't have to...what was it? 

Your heart drops into your shoes. They'd said they were happy to stop pretending to smile. You'd thought they'd meant they wouldn't be _pretending_ anymore, but...

You think about the secret moments you’ve felt, on your own, since you reached the surface, and it feels like something inside you fractures. 

…This is _your fault_. 

That’s okay, though. You’ve had things be your fault before. Didn’t Undyne tell you once that you were the one keeping the monsters trapped in the Underground, because you wouldn’t give up your soul? You kept going then, and you managed to free everyone. Crying for comfort won’t do any good, not for guilt. 

You’ll just have to live with it, and see if there’s anything you can do. You’ve been able to help so far, after all; maybe there will be.

* * *

The walk back up the tunnels to the surface is long and quiet, and you let Asgore carry you on his shoulder most of the way. Eventually, though, you silently ask to be let down, and though he hesitates for a moment, he complies. 

It's better lit in the tunnels than it was the first time you left, but it's still a bit shadowy. You let yourself slow down until you draw even with Sans, being careful of your footing in the darkness. 

You tug at his sleeve, and he pauses, looking you over. "what's up?"

"...You brought Papyrus." 

"yeah," he says, starting to walk again. "well, jester's pretty tall, and i can barely pull my own weight, you know? much less someone else's."

"But..."

"my bro's been talking a lot with alphys since we left the underground," Sans says, seemingly out of the blue. He's got his arms behind his head, and is looking up at the top of the tunnel like he'll be able to see something through the stone. You think he's avoiding looking at you. "he's been learning some things. i get why you're worried, but it doesn't seem to be a problem. nothing gets through that _boneheaded_ optimism of his. " His grin widens. "good thing, too. he really is the best." 

That makes you smile too, a little, and nod. 

Sans catches it out of the corner of his eyesocket. "heh, yeah. look, don't let this get to ya, alright? don't know how it works for you humans, but moping too much just ain't healthy." 

You nod again. It's a promise...or at least, you can promise you'll try.


	7. Birds and Eggs

This is the second time you've been deposited back at Toriel's house after something upset you. You're starting to feel like a crying child put in time-out, but the monsters are so earnest about it, you can't find it in yourself to be too mad. Toriel doesn't roll her eyes or seem impatient at all; she just enfolds you in one of her cinnamon-scented hugs and carries you inside, keeping you on one hip as she starts preparations for an early dinner. She seems to be fine working with just one hand, even though you're sure you're big enough to be heavy. 

"Would you like to help, Frisk?"

Was that a hint? You nod immediately, even though no, you don't really want to do anything at the moment. She hands you a whisk and cracks a couple of eggs into a bowl. She sets it on the counter and you tug over a stepstool and get to work. Carefully, because you don't want to spill; with plenty of energy, because you remember Undyne's cooking lesson and the face she made when you petted her tomatoes. Lack of enthusiasm or not, doing something and being helpful makes you feel a little bit better. 

The eggs are taking their time, though. "Human eggs?" you ask, pointing at the mix. 

"Why no, Frisk, that would be cannibalism!" Toriel says brightly, pushing her homemade pie crust into the oven. "But they are real eggs from real surface chickens."

You snort reflexively, then frown. "What about you?" you ask. 

"I'll have a small piece," Toriel says. "And I was thinking...what about an experiment? We can put some monster vegetables into the quiche and see how it tastes." 

You nod. You've been missing monster food, so you're looking forward to it. 

"A Vegetoid brought me some just yesterday," Toriel continued. "I hope they do not burn. Human food needs to cook for a long time!" 

You finish with the eggs, and together you fold in the rest of the ingredients. She got bacon somewhere too, and cheese, and with the vegetables and the pinches of cinnamon and nutmeg that she adds you'd be lying if said you weren't hungry by the time the smell of it starts permeating the house. 

It feels weird to want to eat, and you're worried you're going to start crying again. Toriel's sitting in her chair looking over what appear to be curriculum notes while she waits for the quiche to be done; she glances periodically over at you, a worried crease between her eyes. You climb into her lap for a little while and read over her shoulder, then get off again and walk through the house, prowling like a restless cat before going back to her. She's patient with it, and you're terribly grateful as you finally find a spot to settle, on the floor leaning against her shins. She reaches down and runs a hand over your hair. 

"Little one..." she says uncertainly. "I know this must be difficult for you, but take as much time as you need, all right? There is no rush." 

You shrug. Rush for what? There's nothing for you to do up here, after all. The Underground doesn't need saving anymore, and the monsters have their bright futures to get on with. Maybe you're just getting in their way. 

Did you make the wrong choice, deciding to stay here? 

The thought stills you, stops even your breath as you consider it. Leaving had never seemed like a real option before, but something's changed inside you, and you find yourself considering it. It still terrifies you, but you're starting to be scared of staying, too. What if it's always like this, just disappointment after disappointment? Getting in your friends' way, never again being as useful as you used to be...it doesn't sound like a happy future. It doesn't sound like something you want, for them or for you. 

The oven dings, and Toriel gets up, but you stay where you are as she sets the quiche out to cool and starts setting the table, huddling against the warm place where her legs had been and trying not to think. 

The quiche is delicious when it comes out, but it settles like stones in your stomach, dragging you down. You go to bed right after you're done eating, and run ahead of your dread headlong into sleep.

* * *

You were right to be worried. You dream of the small bird-monster that used to wait for someone to carry across the gap in Waterfall. In your dream, the bird's feathers are ruffled by the gentle wafts of breeze that come off the water, its wings flung askew at an unnatural angle. You can't look away until a familiar voice rings out, making you flinch and look instinctively up, and up and up to a large promontory. Undyne's shadow looms over you. 

"DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO CHERISH THEM?!?!" she screams, and then her grief turns into anger, and she's yelling at you, like back when you first met her. "Your continued existence is a CRIME. You know what would be more valuable to everyone? If you were—"

You pull yourself back out of the dream by sheer force of will and wake up, slowly, painfully, with her voice still ringing in your ears. Undyne, ironically, trained you to be really good at knowing when to run away. And even if you are upset, you know she wouldn't say something like that to you anymore. Not even if it were true. Monsters are like that with their friends, and you're besties with her now. You're pretty convinced that as long as you don't actually kill anyone with your own hands, Undyne will at least hear you out on just about anything. 

Which is good, because it was still an upsetting dream. That little bird really seemed to love getting everyone back and forth across that gap…will it be okay? You decide that you'll ask Undyne about it when you see her next. She'd know who to ask, if nothing else, since she used to live in Waterfall.

* * *

The next day, Toriel seems to be considering staying home. She hovers over you after waking you up, making sure you brush your teeth and your hair and sit down and eat your breakfast. You're not exactly hungry, but you're not really tired, either, so you do it all the way you would any other morning, and then let her know that she can go, not to worry about you. 

"Are you sure, little one?" she asks, and it's obvious she's still worried. "I can stay with you. It is no trouble." 

Of course it's trouble. She's a queen, or used to be, and she's getting closer and closer to returning to the role every day. You frown and all but push her out the door. You can understand the sentiment, and you're even grateful, but you don't think having her holed away with you would actually make you feel any better. 

In fact, being holed away isn't helping _you_ , either. You pull on your shoes and a sweater and scarf (both striped) and make your way out of the house yourself. You'll feel better after some exercise, you figure, or at least maybe being out in the open will help you think.

* * *

Only a few minutes after leaving the house, a flash of yellow in the corner of your eye makes you whirl around so fast you almost put a crick in your neck. It turns out you won't need to ask Undyne about the little bird after all—you just saw it carrying an improbably large load of supplies to the edge of town. Passersby stay safely out from under it and cheer it on. It's hard to tell from so far away, but it looks pleased. 

Your heart somewhat lightened, you wander on, staying out of the way of the monsters you see passing by between the houses. You try a little bit harder to figure out what to do with yourself. 

You consider your options. Undyne's been saying she wants to train you, but you don't feel very up to it today. (It's probably better to avoid her until you do. If Alphys doesn't get a pass from training, there's no way you will.) Papyrus is similarly dangerous, and you're never sure where to actually find Sans, and besides, all of them _saw_ you the other day, and know everything that's happened, and it seems like it could be awkward being around them so soon after that. 

You don't want to just wander off—you've been doing a lot of that lately, and it's been getting kind of lonely. You have a lot of friends, but a lot of them are also gossips, and monsters can be kind of...high energy. At this point, you think it's just the way they operate, and you don't want to bring any of them down. 

So, then, who should you talk to? Not a monster who saw you in the Underground yesterday, or one who will be upset if you aren't bright and cheerful and looking for fun…

_"Not feeling up to it right now. Sorry."_

Suddenly, know exactly who you want to visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: All of Undyne's speeches are intense, but I think the one she gives during the pacifist route is one of the harshest given its context. Plus, that rant is the only one this Frisk would've heard, so I decided to reference it in their nightmare.**
> 
> **Also, sorry for the wait! It's been a busy several weeks. Plus, I couldn't seem to fit all the scenes I wanted into this chapter, so I kept it shorter instead for the sake of pacing. There's a certain homebody (home-disembodied? Well, either way) ghost to look forward to in the next chapter, though, so there's that.**
> 
> **Thanks for reading!**


	8. Sparkly Peppermint Cocoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk spends some time with Napstablook—and, incidentally, Mettaton.

Napstablook's house is at the edge of the town on the higher end, further up the mountain. It's bigger than it used to be; there's a spare room built into the side, and it doesn't look like the left half of a set anymore. It's still vaguely ghost-shaped, though, with a circular bulge at the top that doesn't seem very architecturally sound and a small little door that looks a bit like an afterthought. You knock, trying to be polite. After all, it's possible that Napstablook isn't home. 

There's no reply for a little while, and you're turning around to leave when you spot a wisp of white out of the corner of your eye. Napstablook is peeking out the window, and when they see you looking they slide right through the wall. 

"hello..." they say, sounding uncertain. 

You wave at them. 

"did you come to visit?" they ask. 

You nod. 

"oh...." They seem a little thrown by this. "i'm not used to having visitors...the house isn't very tidy...oh no..."

You try to look reassuring and wait, not wanting to pressure them any further. 

"well...you can come in if you really want to," Napstablook decides, looking a little brighter. "it's ok if you don't, though..."

And they fade back through the wall, leaving you to open the door yourself. It's unlocked, like it was the last time. You judge that Napstablook, though shy as always, wasn't actually unhappy about the prospect of company, and let yourself inside.

If anything, Napstablook's new house is tidier than their old one. It's bigger, so the sparse furniture looks even smaller in comparison. The only corner that really looks lived-in is the one with the computer. Piles of CDs and other equipment you don't recognize surround it. There are even some machines you don't remember seeing last time. You think that one's a set of turntables, and there's a box along one wall with a lot of switches and dials that looks complicated enough to launch a small rocket with. 

You point at some of the new stuff, interested. "oh..." Napstablook says, and blushes, looking pleased. "i don't really know what i'm doing with it yet, but mettaton insisted. he's being really nice to me, it's...kind of weird..."

You nod, pleased. 

"...do you want me to show you...what it does?" Napstablook asks shyly.

You nod again, smiling wider this time. 

"...okay..."

And they do. They show you what each of the things do, with a mix of technical jargon and names that they've clearly made up themself. It's a lot of fun listening to their descriptions, and eventually they get so wrapped up in their work that they forget to be nervous around you. You find out that an excited Napstablook sounds pretty much like they normally do, only with fewer pauses. 

The music provides a nice counterpoint. It's relaxing, and you find yourself getting lost in the loops that they've made that run into and build on each other so nicely. It's amazing how the smallest melody can turn into a full-fledged song with the proper coaxing. You think you'd like to learn a little more about music yourself, and you can see how Napstablook can stay inside all day and work on this. 

Encouraged by your enthusiasm, they show you some samples of new projects they're working on, too. You don't know much about the music, but there are more kinds of sound than there were before. Napstablook talks about things like loops and samples and synthesizers and some other stuff you don't understand. You don't worry too much about trying to understand it all; instead, you just enjoy the stuff they show you. It isn't hard; their enthusiasm is infectious. 

Eventually they wind down, looking a little self-conscious. You wish you could give them a hug, but you're pretty sure you'd pass right through them, so you don't ask. Instead, they ask you suddenly if you'd like something to eat, and then flush again as they remember last time. 

"We could try again," you say. 

It doesn't work any better than it did before, though this time you imagine that you can just barely feel the faint impressions of sandwich against your fingers. Instead, you pull out the pouch of mushrooms you got from the River Person and nibble on one of those. You forgot yesterday, with everything that happened, but it does make you feel better. It feels like sunshine inside your stomach, radiating out to make all of you feel warmer. 

Napstablook watches you as they eat their sandwich. It hovers in front of their mouth and just sort of slowly vanishes, a little bit at a time. You try not to stare, because that would be rude. 

After your shared meal, they invite you to lie on the floor and feel like garbage again, and you're happy to agree. A little too happy, it turns out, because as time begins to lengthen and the ambient sound of the apartment takes on a strangely musical quality all its own, you find yourself examining a strange little tightness in your chest. It's gotten bigger and more snarled in the time you've spent with Napstablook, while you weren't paying attention, and now there's very little to distract you from it. You know it's the things you don't want to talk with them about, but even deciding that you won't isn't making the feeling go away. 

Needless to say, it doesn't feel very nice. 

You don't feel like crying, not quite, not really. You wish that you _could_ cry—it'd bring up the topic of conversation, even though right now words seem like they'd get stuck in your throat. But you don't want to make Napstablook feel bad, even if there's a chance they'd understand. It's not like you can't stop yourself from crying, either; you can do that almost without thinking about it. You know how to control that much, even when everything is going wrong. 

But the things that are going wrong now are unimportant in comparison to before, and not going after you specifically, and something about the littleness and distance is getting to you in a way that big explosions and near brushes with death didn't. You feel small and weak and off-kilter, and honestly a little bit sick, like something's wrong with you—and you don't know _why_. And worse, you can't help but feel guilty about those things when the only cause of them, as far as you can tell, is someone else hurting far more than you're hurting. Every time you feel like you want to cry, that thought comes in and walls away the tears, and then they drain back into nothing. 

You're not sure how long you stay in the gap between moments with Napstablook, but eventually you think you hear something at the edges of your perception, and as the sense of timelessness fades away you're graced with a large and extremely glamorous robot, arms akimbo, looking down at you with a quizzical frown. 

"Well, isn't that an unhappy face!"

You blink at him, and slowly push yourself up on your elbows, pushing away the last vestiges of disorientation. Mettaton. 

Your face doesn't seem like it's in an unhappy position, though. You raise an eyebrow at him quizzically. 

"Don't give me that, darling," he says, and ruffles your hair absently with one hand, looking over his shoulder at Napstablook. "Blooky, you haven't been letting the human get you down, have you?" 

"i...um..." Napstablook looks a bit lost. "i didn't know they were upset....oh no....." 

You shake your head vigorously and give Mettaton a pointed look, trying to dig up some words to explain exactly why he's wrong—the last thing you wanted was to make Napstablook worry, and you'd been doing fine until just now! Doubts are eating away at the back of your argument, however, and it's slowing the words down. "I'm not," you get out stubbornly. 

"...I see," Mettaton says eventually, and you realize that he'd sounded a little angry before. You didn't even recognize the dangerous edge in his voice until it was gone. "I get out a bit more than my cousin, so I hear things. Celebrities have networks, you know! And mine are telling me that you might have some things to be glum about." 

He's not going to get specific if you don't, you sense, and you're grateful. You just shrug, trying to be as friendly about the gesture as possible. 

"I see," Mettaton says again. You're not really giving him a lot of material to work with, you must admit. "I'm glad you're getting along with Blooky, though! Not enough people appreciate his relaxing aura." 

Napstablook, who's floated shyly closer to both of you to see what's going on, splutters a little in protest, and you bite back a giggle. 

Then you pause, and tilt your head, as something strange about what he just said occurs to you. 

" 'He'?"

"oh…" Napstablook says, flushing brighter than you've seen thus far. "uh…um…"

To your surprise, they start almost to sink through the floor, but then Mettaton makes an authoritative shooing motion and they float back up again, still refusing to meet your eye. 

"Now, now, none of that!" he chides. "I know you're not one for the spotlight, Blooky, but I'm confident that you can handle this much. They're just confused, that's all." 

Mettaton likes to assume things about people, but in this case he's completely right. "Um…" you start, not sure how to articulate what you're confused about, or even why it confuses you in the first place. 

"Monsters usually tell each other what they want to be called," Mettaton explains, "and then tell their friends, and word gets around. Blooky decided on 'he' when we were younger, but then he had trouble telling anyone."

"y…yeah…" Napstablook looks a little ashamed, though you can't see why. You can't quite figure out how you'd bring up a topic like that either. "...you can call me whatever you want," they add, with the ghostly equivalent of a shrug. "it's not like it bothers me, or anything." 

It does bother you, though. How are you supposed to know what Napstablook wants without something clearer than that? You cast a pleading gaze over at Mettaton, looking for guidance. 

"There you have it, darling," he says, with a wink. "He's not really bothered. I think you should call him whatever you feel most comfortable with."

Napstablook actually looks pleased with Mettaton's advice, which surprises you. Aren't people supposed to care, or does that not apply to monsters? You can feel yourself squirming, but try to settle down and think about it anyway. 

...You want to call Napstablook "he," because Mettaton does, and he seems to know Napstablook best. But if you do that, then the other monsters who hear you say it might start doing it as well. And then Napstablook might end up hearing about it, and...you're not sure if you're ready for that kind of responsibility. It feels like a secret—which fits Napstablook pretty well, given how little the other monsters seem to know about their ghost neighbor. 

Eventually, you muster up your courage and ask if it'd be a problem to call Napstablook "he," too. 

Napstablook shakes his head, looking a little pleased. "that's fine...i stressed you out, didn't i? oh no....." 

You flop back down on the floor instead of reaching for a hug he can't return. "No, it's okay," you say. 

"...What about you?" Mettaton asks suddenly.

What?

"What do you want to be called?" Mettaton asks. You look up at him, upside-down from your angle; he's craning his neck slightly to catch your face, and your eyes lock like that, awkwardly. "Monsters call each other 'they' when they don't know each other, and I thought that if everyone was still calling you 'they' after all this time then it was because you wanted them to," he continued. "But if you didn't know, then...have we been using the wrong pronouns for you, darling?" 

"...I like 'they,'" you say quietly. You hadn't realized that you did, not all the way, but now you do—you realize that it feels like a warm little light in your chest, like a healing bolt of magic straight to your soul. You don't want them to stop—it's another thing you'd miss, if you went back to the humans. 

Mettaton smiles. "I see. Thank goodness." 

You wonder a bit more about ghosts and robots and estranged friends and family, and then you get up and hug Mettaton, and then blow a kiss to Napstablook. "Thank you," you say to both of them, and mean every little bit of feeling you can push out into the words. 

"You're welcome, darling," Mettaton says, and Napstablook stutters out something similar, except for the last part. "And now, would you like to come with me for a while?" Mettaton continues. "I think Blooky here should get back to work. He's got a set to complete for my next show, after all!" 

Napstablook, to your surprise, looks pleased by this teasing rather than pressured, and sees you off pretty cheerfully, still looking a bit flustered by your flirting. You're a little sad to leave him, but you're willing to take Mettaton's hint to avoid overwhelming him. You're glad he's helping you out with that. 

You expect him to say goodbye to you soon after that, or try to drop you off with Toriel like everyone else has been lately, but instead he leads you at a businesslike pace down the side of the mountain and through a cross-section of the town. You take a short but idyllic mountain path, and then you arrive at his private mansion. 

For Mettaton, it's pretty understated, and surprisingly quiet. He has plans to do some more land development here at some point—you've heard rumors of arguments with the other monsters about logistics—but for now his house is tucked away by itself from the rest of the town. It's broad and tall, with wide windows hung with heavy drapes in deep reds, just like stage curtains. You've seen the building under construction, but you haven't been inside. 

This time, Mettaton invites you in, points you to a sofa big enough to swallow you, and asks you if you want something to drink. He doesn't do much eating himself, he explains as he fusses with a kettle—it's more convenient just to keep his body charged. There are electrical outlets in every room in the house, and you spot several extension cords in out-of-the-way corners. Since Alphys adjusted his body, he can leave it at will, but he's out of practice carrying physical objects when he's not inside them. 

"Besides," he adds, a little ruefully, setting a sparkling mug in front of you, "I'm not really ready to be seen like that just yet. I should probably explain it eventually, but I'd rather be everyone's perfect, mysterious idol for a little while longer." 

You nod and sip at your drink. It looks like hot chocolate, but there appear to be sparkles in it, and there's also a hint of peppermint. It's hot, but not as hot as Undyne's, and the milk has cooled it down some. You take a tentative sip and roll it around your mouth carefully. It's sweet, and right behind the chocolate is a little bit of a bite. You decide that you like it, though it reminds you a little bit of Christmas, which is weird since you're pretty sure that's still some months away. 

"I also don't think Alphys is quite ready for everyone to know yet, either" he continues, pensive. "She's doing very well, with her new job and everything, and introducing the Amalgamates to their families went very smoothly. And she's even told Asgore about me, and agreed to let me tell the people I was closest to as a ghost. But I don't want to bring any more trouble on her head before I know that she can handle it.

"But enough about me," he says, and you sink a little further back into the couch cushions and try to hide behind your mug at the sharp look he gives you. "How have _you_ been doing, Frisk?" 

You shrug. 

"Do you not want to talk about it?" Mettaton asks, sounding concerned. 

You shrug again, because it's not that you don't, and not that you do. You take a longer gulp of your hot chocolate, and refuse to meet his eyes. 

"In that case, there's nothing else for it," he said, and there's a dangerous glint in his eye that has you checking the couch for a trapdoor. "I'm used to comforting ghosts, sweetheart. Next to that, humans are child's play!" 

You're not sure exactly what he means by that until he disappears briefly and shows up again with his arms full of pillows and blankets. You curl protectively around your drink as you're suddenly bombarded with more bedding than one monster could possibly need, even a monster idol. You have no idea where he even got all this stuff, or what he thought he'd need it for, but you're quickly distracted from the question by the warm, fluffy walls being raised around you. 

He crashes down next to you, and you think for a moment he's going to tickle you, but instead he goes still with the weight of his arms pinning you under enough bedding materials that you can't quite see out of them. 

You're expecting him to move, or say something, but he doesn't. 

You lift your drink pointedly and make a confused sound at him. 

"Oh, do you want me to take that?" he says. 

You nod, and he plucks it out of your hands and sets it on a corner of the coffee table. Then he settles his hand right back where it was and just breathes. You wonder if he needs to, if it does something necessary for his body, or if he just got in the habit for the sake of realism in performance. Either way, it's calming. 

It's very warm under the blankets, too, and the longer the situation stretches the more ridiculous it seems. You feel laughter bubbling up inside you, and though it starts silent it gets louder when Mettaton joins in. You sit there, bundled with excessive enthusiasm, and let yourself laugh. 

Then, almost before you realize it, the laughter has turned into something else. You bury your face in a nearby pillow and feel the tears build up, annoyingly slowly, in your eyes. They're wicked away right away by the fabric. Even monsters (and ghosts) cry more than you do when you're upset. You haven't cried in a pretty long time, and it's this anticlimactic every time, but your shaking ribs do their best to make up for it. You feel like you imagine Papyrus must when he rattles his bones. You're pretty sure you're crying partially in embarrassment at the extravagance of all this, but it seems to be helping nonetheless. 

Mettaton's laughter died away as soon as yours changed, and you can feel him patting your back through several blankets. "There, there, darling," he says softly. "Just let it all out." 

You nod, and let yourself keep crying. It doesn't take very long before you can feel the tears drying up on their own, and you pull away from the pillow and wipe your face on your sleeve. 

"Feel better?" 

You give it some thought, and then nod. 

"Do you want to stay here for a little while?" 

You don't have to think about that one; you nod again right away. 

"Got it," Mettaton says quietly, and hands you your peppermint hot chocolate again. You sip it and snuggle sideways into his side. He makes a surprised little huffing noise, and when you sneak a glance up at him, he's smiling faintly. 

"Here, now." One of his arms extends and plucks a tissue from a box in the corner, handing it gingerly to you. You blow your nose and wipe your eyes and wad the tissue up, pushing it into your pocket. 

"Frisk..." Mettaton looks hesitant now, and you look up at him, waiting. "It may not be interesting to a child as young as yourself, but I want to tell you a story. Will you listen?" 

You nod and keep quiet as he finds it in himself to begin. 

"Once, there were two ghosts. They were cousins, and very good friends. For as long as any of them could remember, their family had found objects to possess and gone out to the edges of the ruins and beyond to the more rural monster settlements. One of the family members had started a farm, but he'd been an odd one and had faded out long ago, leaving the farm to the only cousin who had any interest in inheriting it." 

He seems to be telling you his life story. You've heard parts of it before, but he's a good storyteller; you sit quietly and listen. 

"But there was one member of the family who hadn't inherited the farm, and didn't want to become a hired dummy, either. He had bigger dreams—ones that involved getting noticed, not mocked, by the monsters he lived with, and maybe even a life on the surface. He tried helping his cousin at the farm, but that didn't get him any closer to his dreams. And so he befriended a monster from the capital in secret, and made a deal."

Mettaton looks away, off to a distant corner of the room. His eyes are sad. "And he told his cousin that he was going far, far away, and that they'd never see him again. And then he vanished." 

Mettaton's looking the same way, and then tightens the hand he's got around your shoulders. "For years, they thought I was gone," he said simply. "In a way, they're right. Most monsters still think that Alphys created me, instead of making me a new body, and...I don't want to correct them. Most of my family still doesn't even know." 

You wait for him to look down at him, and then raise your eyebrows. Is he going to tell them?

Mettaton sighs. "I don't know. It's...hard. I don't want to force Blooky and the others to keep my secret, but I'm wondering whether I can just...wait and see if anybody notices." 

You wonder whether you should say that they will, of course they will, but something stops you. You didn't get along too well with some of the other ghost family members, after all. And honestly, you can understand where he's coming from. There are some things you don't want your friends thinking too hard about, either. 

"So, you're probably wondering why I'm telling you this story," Mettaton says eventually, looking you over. 

You shrug. Monsters just like to monologue, right? And Mettaton's always performing. You hadn't really questioned it. 

He chuckles a little at that, and cold fingers smooth your hair back into place. "Well, this is what I was getting at, so pay attention," he says gently. "Darling, if you...oh, how should I say it?...If you ever find yourself wanting to...go somewhere far away, someday, and not tell anyone where you are...I just wanted to tell you, I know how that feels." 

Go away? And not tell anyone? 

You can't quite wrap your head around what he's trying to get at, but at the same time you feel something in you that understands. It scares you a little bit. 

"If you ever feel that way..." Mettaton continues, searching your face. You feel like you're under a spotlight that only the two of you can see, trying not to squirm in the glare. "I want you to learn from my regrets, okay, darling? I want you to _tell someone._ You remind me a little of how I felt, all that time ago, before I left. So if you ever decide to go away anywhere…even if you're worried your friends will stop you, it's safest if someone else knows where you're headed."

He takes one of your hands from where it's drifted from your mug, holds it firmly between both of his own. "If there's someone else you'd rather tell, that's fine," he says earnestly. "You have friends here, Frisk, and family, and we all care about you very much. You're a big, strong, powerful human, so I know you can look after yourself, even if you decide to go off on your own. But at the very least, even if you don't tell anyone else, I want you to tell _me_." He winks. "After all, I definitely know how to keep a secret." 

And how long to keep one, you reflect, given what he'd revealed about Alphys before fighting you. You squeeze his hands and nod, solemnly. 

"Good," he says. "Now, finish your hot chocolate. When you're done, I want to show you a _special preview_ of my plans for my first performance! I could use your expert opinion, and you're _almost_ as big of a star as I am, after all!"

You sigh, resigned to your fate, and gulp happily at your cocoa. Somehow, the promise you've made with Mettaton makes you feel a little less lonely and afraid, even if it's technically another weight for you to carry. When you're done, you wrap your arms around his waist and hug him tightly once again, resting your cheek against the metal of his torso. Your breath fogs up its chrome plating, and Mettaton plays with your hair again. 

You're not sure why Mettaton made you promise what you just did. Maybe he's just seeing more of himself in you than there really is, and the two of you are making a big deal out of nothing. Still, though, you're glad to have his reassurance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …Okay, I was honestly not expecting this chapter to be this long. And this was with some stuff left out for later. Mettaton really, really likes to talk. I apologize for any typos: this is unbeta-ed, and I've read through most of this chapter multiple times but not the whole thing at once. It's long and I'm impatient (and it's already past my bedtime). 
> 
> Regarding Napstablook's pronouns: there are many, many people out there who are attached to "they" pronouns for Napstablook, and I am 100% for that, it's awesome. However…in the pacifist route, when Mettaton recognizes Napstablook over the phone, he corrects himself from "he" to "they" in the same way that he stops himself from saying "Blooky." This is just my preference, but I prefer the headcanon I've come up with here to a near-mispronouning by a monster in the canon. I hope this works for other people as a midway point, like it does for me. 
> 
> The next chapter might be from another character's point of view, since that's something I've been playing with for a while. The narration will switch to third-person when that happens. (It's definitely going to happen eventually.)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	9. Undyne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Undyne eats her lunch and makes a friend.

There's a storm on the horizon.

Undyne could have felt it in her bones even if the humans hadn't shared their weather report. As it is, it was the first thing the humans opened with yesterday. So instead of being a lingering doubt in the back of her head that she can't get rid of, she's able to face the vague ache in her joints head-on. She doesn't get on well with the cold, but she's confident in her ability to face any enemy she can see coming.

Since then, Asgore's been rushing to tie off loose ends so he can return to Ebott Town before the storm can hit. 

It's been interesting to watch the humans responding to this. Their forecasting ability is impressive, but it's obvious that they're still nervous about the storm. Maybe it's because they're part of the government, she thinks, but they're good at hiding it. They share something with His and Her Majesties in the way they buckle down on their emotions; quiet, efficient, and prepared for any eventuality. The stress still leaks through if you know where to look for it, and Undyne does. Faces lie, she knows, but unless you're trained in fighting, body language is harder to control. 

Their nervousness about the weather is different from their nervousness about the monsters, too. For instance, for the man Asgore's talking to now, much of that nervousness has worn down to a kind of frustrated impatience—not with them, exactly, and not hostile, just with the entire situation. He looks a bit like Toriel when she's talking with His Majesty, she thinks, but obviously a whole lot less scary. 

At the moment, said human is making an uncomfortable face as Asgore tries to argue caution. "I don't think we're better off rushing to tell everyone," Asgore is saying. "I believe we can still stop news of the monsters from spreading too far, at least for the moment." 

"I don't know," the man says, sounding resigned. "This is going to sound crazy, but we have this thing called the 'Internet'..."

Undyne stifles a snort with, she believes, admirable professionalism. 

"I know," Asgore says, more kindly than Undyne would under similar circumstances. "We monsters adapted something our Undernet from the human model a while back." 

The human looks suitably chastened. "Oh. Of course. Right." 

"Some of the younger monsters are really good with it," Asgore continues, magnanimous. "We also have versions of your cell phones, though ours are a little out of date and have some magical gimmicks you folks probably aren't familiar with." 

That stumps him for a second. "Features like...?" he prompts. 

"Jet packs, projectiles, that sort of thing," Asgore says, waving a dismissive hand. "All made of magic, of course. I'm not sure they'd even work outside our settlement." 

"You have magical weapons that don't work outside your town's borders," he checks, like he's trying hard to stay casual about it. 

"As far as I know," Asgore says firmly. "It has been a very long time since monsters have been outside the Underground. I'm not sure any of us remembers exactly what we can and can't do now that we're up here." 

The man sweats, and Undyne represses a toothy grin with a marked effort. She doesn't actually want to intimidate this human, who is being pretty receptive despite the threats that Asgore can't help making. With someone like this, she thinks, they actually have a chance of maintaining peaceful relations, barrier or no barrier. 

"What's important right now is Ebott Town's borders," Asgore continues. "Of course, with the storm, it's likely no one will be going anywhere anytime soon. But my people are curious about the rest of the world—not all of them want to stay in our town forever. And I'm sure that the locals have heard rumors about our presence by now."

The man nods, looking pained. 

"These meetings have been tricky enough to hush up as it is," Asgore says delicately. "If one of the humans makes their way into our borders…things could get tricky." 

"Um, what about a…spell…that makes humans think they need to be elsewhere?" he says. "Rather than an actual wall, which might draw attention or photographs...a few warning signs and a compulsion to do something important that they forgot about, maybe a Confun—I mean, a spell of some kind that would confuse humans too, and make them forget what they were doing...?"

Undyne huffs out a silent sigh of relief—they've been trying to keep the humans away from ideas about magical barriers, but this is something else. 

Asgore sits back, blinking. "I hadn't considered something like that," he says honestly. "I'll have to get back to my team of specialists, but with some of our people's skills, it should be possible." 

Undyne, for her part, gives the man a considering look out of the corner of her eye. Learning magic takes years of study and a special sort of innovation; if all humans have at their command is science, then how could this one have come up with an idea for a spell so quickly? Is there a human science that does something similar? She wants to ask, but she's a bodyguard—it's not really her job to ask questions. Besides, anything she tried to ask would probably come out sounding like an interrogation. 

Fortunately, Asgore does it for her. "I must admit, I'm a bit confused," he says. "If what you say is true, and humans have no knowledge of magic, then how on earth did you come up with something like that?" 

"We have, uh, stories about magic," the human says, looking self-conscious. "Maybe some of them even come from monsters, though we don't have any direct historical record of you. That I've found. Yet." He clears his throat, getting back on track. "…But still, there are stories. I'm trying not to expect them to be true to reality, but some things are still probably slipping through." 

"You mean like how I thought humans had giant killer robots and eight-foot-long swords and warrior princesses," Undyne says, frowning. "You don't have any of those, do you?" 

"...Oh my god, you watch anime." The guy's eyes actually light up a bit, Undyne's pretty sure, behind his glasses. She's beginning to suspect that Frisk's a bit impassive by human standards, because she can read this guy like a book. Asgore looks on, intrigued. 

"Yeah," she says, still a bit wary. "I take it it's not historically accurate." 

"Not usually, no." He says. "Not...everyone watches much anime up here, so not everyone will understand what you're talking about if you ask them about it. Just, uh, so you know." 

"...do YOU watch anime?" Undyne asks. The way this guy's talking, maybe a lot of humans share Papyrus's entirely wrong opinions…or perhaps the kinds of anime that Alphys tries to keep hidden from her are more common than Alphys tried to make it sound. 

From the way he flushes, she knows it's one or the other, if not both. "...Yes." 

Asgore coughs. "Well, anime aside—Undyne, remind me that I still want Alphys to explain that to me sometime?—I'll see what I can do about a magical boundary to deter humans. There are some among us who would feel reassured by such a measure, and it will put my heart at ease to know that such a decision would not be seen as hostile on your end." 

"No, for now it seems to be for the best," the human says, shaking his head. "I'll pass this along to my superiors. For now…" He glances at a clock. "Why don't we break for lunch?"

* * *

Undyne opens her lunchbox, and a wave of heat rolls out. She grins in anticipation. Alphys's hotbox is perfect for storing meals when she's away from the city all day. She could go buy a hot dog or something, but the shocked stares and cringes she gets from the shopkeepers around town, while hilarious, have started to go a little stale. So when Asgore waves her off during lunch, as he's done at least once every few days since she began following him to the human town, she decides to stay inside the building's courtyard and enjoy some peace and quiet.

They're in a City Hall, apparently, which is something like a castle, but on a much smaller and less impressive scale. It rules over an area of the surface that's probably bigger than Snowdin, Hotland, and the capital combined, but the humans don't seem to think that's too big of a deal. The courtyard is nowhere near as nice as Asgore's garden; he'd fuss about the state the shrubs were in if he saw them, Undyne thinks. She wonders briefly if he's been out here yet, but he's been spending most of his free time inside, looking over reports. She's seriously glad sometimes that she's just a guard. 

Anyway. Her sandwich is kind of dried-out and singed at this point, but that's what her thermos of tea is for! She takes a last careful look around the perimeter of the small courtyard before digging in. 

She's about halfway through her sandwich when one of the shrubs rustles nearby. On instinct, she whirls and gives it her meanest snarl, one hand at the ready to summon one of her spears—

Oh. It's a kid, judging by the size of the shadow she's seeing. She eases up, but only a little. "Who's there?" 

"Just me," comes a voice, and a little kid's head pops up over the shrub, wavering like they're on tiptoes. 

"Yeah?" she says, still wary. "What're you doing here, shrimp? I thought this place was for grown-ups." 

"It is," they say matter-of-factly. "I'm just visiting." 

"Yeah? And who said you could?" 

"Mr. J," the kid says, full of false confidence. 

Undyne remembers that particular swagger, dimly. She tried to use the same trick to get in to see Asgore. There's no way she can hold the same thing against someone else, even if that someone's a human. 

"Sure," she said. "Wanna join me? I have tea." 

"I probably shouldn't take food from strangers," the kid says, but they come over anyway and sit on Undyne's bench like it's no big deal. "Especially strange monsters. You're actually a monster, right? It's not just a costume?" 

She raises an eyebrow. "What do YOU think?"

The kid reaches out to pinch one of her arms, feeling the scales under their fingers. Human skin is warm, Undyne thinks, but thicker than she's used to—like strangely cured leather or something. Really soft. 

"Sure, okay, you're real. And you're coming to live on the mountain?" the kid asks. 

"Yeah, that's the plan," she says, taking another bite of sandwich. "'Slong as your people agree, anyway." 

"They will, probably," they say. "Or that's what Mr. J says." 

"Is that so?" Always good to have information from an outside source, Undyne reflects. 

"Yep." The kid kicks their feet for a moment, then adds, "You should've been here for Halloween. I bet you make the best haunted houses." 

Undyne is a bit puzzled by that. "We have real ghosts, if that's what you mean," she says carefully. "But they're not exactly haunted?? Ghosts live in houses just like anyone else." 

"So they aren't scary?" 

"I guess they could be?" she says. There are definitely some things she's missing here, she reflects. Cultural differences, probably. 

"But what about the monsters? Some of you are scary, aren't you?" 

"Don't you think I'm scary?" Undyne says, and admittedly, she shows off a little. She flashes all of her sharp teeth and makes sure her shoulders are square and does her best to loom a little bit. She's wearing her armor and everything, so she's pretty sure the overall effect should be impressive. Frisk certainly seemed intimidated the first several times they met in Waterfall. 

"Sure, but that's your job," the kid says, unimpressed. "Mr. J can by scary too, sometimes. And he has scary friends." 

"Mr. J?" she asks. That's the second time the kid's mentioned him, so he's probably real—even if he didn't really give his permission for the kid to be here. 

"Sure. I'm living with him now—he says I'm starting school here after Christmas. Oh, hey, what's that?" 

"What's what?" Undyne asks, distracted by the change of topic. 

The kid's pointing at the hotbox. "That." 

"It's my hotbox!" Undyne says, opening it to show them. 

Their eyes go wide, and they reach out their hands to catch the heat. "Whoa! Doesn't it burn your food?"

"Sure, a little. But it's worth it to have a hot lunch in the middle of the day." 

"Cool." They rub their hands together, basking in the heat. "I wish I had one of these." 

They actually look a little chilled, come to think of it. Undyne doesn't quite get how humans can even feel the cold when they run so hot all the time, but Frisk seems to, and this kid does, too. "It's kinda cold out here, huh?" she tries. 

The kid goes still for a second, then shrugs. "Yeah, I guess," they say. 

"Sounds like it's gonna snow soon," she continues. "A lot."

"Yeah, Mr. J mentioned." The kid doesn't look too happy about it, either. 

"You gonna go out to play in it?" 

"Dunno." They shrug. "I don't like snow that much." 

"You and me both, kiddo. It's friggin' cold, for one thing." 

They giggle a little, and Undyne wonders briefly whether she's broken the "best behavior in front of children" rule Asgore mentioned. Whatever, it'd probably be fine. And the kid's already looking serious again, so maybe they forgot? 

"It is," they say. "And it can be dangerous." 

"Well, sure," Undyne agrees. "Anything's dangerous, if you aren't prepared." She thinks of her foray into Hotland in full armor, and winces. "But even then, people have a way of turning up and bailing you out." 

"Yeah, right." Suddenly, the kid's all hunched in on themself, elbows tucked under protective hands, knees level with their chest. They look…

"What, are you scared?" Undyne says. Then she realizes that it sounds a little like she's taunting, and tries again. "It won't be that bad, trust me! Maybe the weather up here's less predictable than what we had in the Underground, but it's just frozen water."

"Shows what you know," the kid shoots back, voice acid, and whoa. No one that young should be able to talk back to her like that. Not that she's mad—kid has guts! That's a good thing!—but…yeah, wow. 

"It's just frozen water, and we're magic, remember?" She summons a spear—a tiny one, to make sure she doesn't threaten the kid on accident—and keeps her back to the windows as she turns it over and over in her hand, executing a tricky figure-eight maneuver before making it vanish again. "We can protect us AND you, if it comes to that." 

"…If you're sure." 

Did she do it right? she wonders. Looks like she did, since the kid actually looks a little better. 

"I should get going," they say, pushing off the bench. "Mr. J probably wouldn't be happy if he saw me here." 

Honesty. Huh. "Good plan," she says. "Later, kid." 

They smile briefly, say "thanks," and then they're gone, back in the bushes. 

Undyne looks at the clock just visible through the window behind her, jumps a bit, and starts grumbling to herself, shoving the remnants of her sandwich into her mouth. She hadn't expected company, and humans have stupidly short break times. She's not allowed to run in the hallways to catch up, so she'll just have to power walk back to the office. Hopefully Asgore will understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The humans are totally unnamed because Undyne (and monsters in general) don't seem to care all that much about names. Not at all because I'm lazy about naming characters. Yep, that's my story and I'm stickin' to it. 
> 
> Also yes, hi, long time no update. But at least you get some Undyne this time? The next chapter will be Frisk again, because clearly the best time to write about snow is in August. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the likes, follows, and supportive comments! And thanks for reading. Y'all are the best.


	10. ATK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fairly major cliffhanger warning on this one—let's just say there's a reason I've been sitting on it for a while. If peril for major characters bugs you, you might want to give this one a pass until I get another chapter up, which I'm aiming to do in the next week.

You wake up in the middle of the night to the feather-soft sound of snowflakes blowing against your window, and the whistling of the wind. Sounds like the storm's here.

You'd be worried, but Toriel already told you that every monster in town was safely inside buildings that had all been checked beforehand as safe. As queen, she has ways of knowing things like that, and you have to admit that you're glad. 

There's something strange about worrying about all of that, as if it's still your responsibility to save everyone. Toriel says it was never your burden in the first place, but, well, you _did_ do it. You've just stopped, now.

It’s probably just that old habits die hard. At least, you think as you turn over and pull the covers up to your chin, you hope that’s all it is.

You've been getting a little better about talking to Toriel, lately, and though you can tell she thinks that some of your worrying is excessive, she's always patient and reassuring. She's been trying her best to redirect your interest. Last night, for instance, she asked whether you would go out and play today, once the storm died down enough for good visibility.

You had the feeling she might trick you out the door if you didn't agree—she takes very good care of you, but there's a little bit of a mother bird in her as well, pushing you out of the nest to make you fly. She's always been a little like that, even on the days when you're not sure of yourself. It scares you a little, but it helps, too.

You'd rather do things the easy way, so you’d agreed.

She feeds you well the next morning, with a large, balanced breakfast of human food—fuel for the day ahead, she tells you. Playing in the snow can be fun, but tiring. "…And if you start to feel cold, or your fingers or toes start to hurt, go inside," she adds. "It doesn't have to be here, but be careful. It would seem that humans are susceptible to something called frostbite. I would hate for any harm to come to you, my child."

You smile at her and promise you'll be careful, but you're pretty sure you'll be fine. Snowdin wasn't so bad, after all. This probably won't be any different.

* * *

Once outside, you realize that snow looks completely different under a cloudless sky.

It's bright enough that it's practically blinding, and you find yourself keeping to the shadows as you pick your way through the town. There are kids about in groups of two or three, making snow monsters or building hills to slide down. You catch a glimpse of at least one precarious obstacle course and two or three truly epic snowball fights.

You're not sure you could tell the difference between snowballs and magical attacks if both of them were coming at you at once, so you decide to steer clear of the snowballs. You know they're just enjoying themselves, but for you, dodging attacks from monsters still doesn't count as a completely good time.

Instead, you head up to the snowman's hill. 

It's a bit of a walk on a fairly steep slope, and you're huffing and puffing before you get to the crown of it. Asgore himself helped the snowman decide on the spot, so that they'll be able to overlook most of the town. Nobody's sure yet whether they'll stay there year-round in a refrigerated room or if the spot will just be seasonal, but as soon as the snow begins to stick on the mountain, the snowman will move up here for at least the winter.

You stand at the top of the hill, feel a breeze ruffle insistently through your hair, and take in the view.

It looks like something out of a holiday card. The sunlight catches on the rooftops and chimneys, and the monsters are visible as bright patches of color scrambling back and forth. When the wind blows in the right direction, you can almost catch snatches of conversation, hints of laughter and a strain or two of music. Perhaps Mettaton is planning his holiday concert—you think you've heard something about that recently.

The other side of the little hill isn't as interesting, but you take a look anyway. Snowy banks, with trees still coated in a snow that hadn't started to slide off in quantity yet; they look a little like frosted cakes, or cookies dipped in white chocolate. Crisp shadows color the snow blue where the trees or the slope of the mountain block out the sun; some of the shadows are deeper than others, but none shades completely to black. Everything seems almost unreasonably clear.

Including, just visible on the other side of a valley, the trail of a single figure, moving doggedly ahead and leaving a small but noticeable break in the otherwise untouched snow. It’s going up the mountain, to where the monsters used to live, and headed toward the place where you fell. Maybe not exactly there, but close.

The figure looks very, very human. And very small—probably a child.

There's no one over there right now. It isn't safe. How could…

At first, you just stare. But then you take a step, and then two, and then you're running, half-sliding down the far side of the hill, where the trees come up crooked out of the ground just to stay upright. There aren't too many of them, and you manage to get to the bottom of the valley in just a few minutes. Even so, you wish you'd brought a sled—then you could go faster.

Whoever that is, you don't want them to fall.

Getting up the hill after them is harder. Every dozen steps or so, the uneven mountainside turns under your feet and spills you onto your knees, and every time that happens, you lose a couple of precious inches sliding backwards. There isn't ice, like there was in the wilds before Snowdin, but there aren't any paths, either. The snow seems like it's getting deeper, too.

You think that maybe if you shouted, the child might hear you, but you can’t quite muster the breath and your voice sticks in your throat. Monsters are easier to talk to than humans, but you tell yourself that surely if you can get just a bit closer, you’ll remember how it’s done.

Then you spy a flutter of dark fabric as it flies between two trees, and seconds later the child is gone.

You whirl around, heart pounding, to see dark shapes moving far too fast for you to follow, seeming to teleport between tree trunks as they rush back towards the village. You begin running after them, futilely, and realize just before you hit the treeline exactly who they remind you of.

_River people_.

The thought makes you stumble, but you push yourself right back up again. You've never seen one off the river before, but you're certain of it. They've got the child, and they're taking them away from you. They’ve already almost disappeared from sight, and you don't understand what’s happening in front of you at all. They run right over the snow like it's solid ground, and you've never been fast. There’s no way you can catch them, but you've never let that stop you before. You continue on.

You know you're running downhill, and then uphill again, but you’re not sure whether you're still in pursuit. You think you may have taken a wrong turn. The trees are too thick to see very far, and you don't know how to read directions from shadows. The snow makes you trip whenever you run too fast; it comes almost to your hips out here. Your legs are burning, even as your feet tingle with the cold.

You forgot to eat a mushroom today. Did you eat one yesterday? You can't remember. But then, considering who gave them to you, maybe it's for the best.

You break through the other side of some trees and come to a steep slope, the sunlight seeming harsher than ever as you blink against it. You trip and can't force your body up again.

For a second, you think that someone's drawing you into a battle, with the way your heart is pounding. But it keeps going, and instead of the walls you're used to seeing rise up around you, there's a blanker sort of darkness growing inwards from the very edges of your vision.

You try to crouch, to get ready to dodge when the first attack comes, but your legs won't support you the way they're supposed to. Instead, you end up kneeling in the snow. Your knees should be getting cold, you think hazily, but you can't feel it. Your hands plunge into the snow too, a few inches, their imprints leaving a razor-fine edge against shadow. You stare down the tiny chasms at your gloved fingers, try to wiggle them, but they don't move. Too much weight on them, maybe, or the added pressure of the snow.

Your chest hurts.

You're not as cold anymore; instead, the snow feels as soft as it looks, warm enough to be suffocating. There's sweat dripping down your forehead. You blink to push it out of your eyes. You try to breathe, but even that doesn't feel like it's working right.

You realize that you should probably ask someone for help. Your mom, maybe. That'd be a good idea; she'd know what to do. But you can't move, much less get to your phone, and you don't even know if Alphys has gotten the monster cell network to work all the way out here.

You can't stop yourself from wondering whether she'll come if you call, even though you know it's not the time for doubt.

You call for help as darkness closes in on you.

You hope someone will come.


	11. sans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...uh, so a bit late, but I figure still better than nothing. I apologize for the relative dearth of puns, but hopefully other than that the tone came out okay.

It’s a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing—the little ones that stick around for the winter, at least—and the sunlight glistens on the snow. On days like these…

…Well, honestly, Sans would prefer to relax on this or any day, but he’s got orders for today. He doesn’t enjoy being told what to do, but he does like Tori, and he'll give her a lot of leeway. So when she asks him to patrol the edges of Ebott Town from time to time, he agrees. It’s not too different from one of the jobs he kept up underground, and it’s not a bad idea in general.

It's not like it's hard, either. With the recent snowfall, most of the adult monsters are being sensible and staying indoors. Snowdin’s close enough to the capital that it's not like the weather's that much of a novelty. The kids are having fun, but kids will be kids; he’s had to warn a few of them not to stray too far, but that’s about as much work as he’s done. Papyrus can’t nag him for doing nothing and he gets to chill in the outside air—throw in a couple naps, and it’s a perfect gig.

Of course, he does throw in a couple naps, because, well, he’s him. Snow doesn’t exactly bother a skeleton in a big puffy coat who’s been around snow for as long as Sans has. So he’s sneaking a few z’s when a weird sound wakes him up out of nowhere, and before he’s even fully awake he’s several dozen feet from his former position, listening intently. He’s lazy, sure, but he hears pretty well for a guy with no visible ears, and even better than his hearing is his instinct for when something’s gone wrong. Better to avoid it if it’s something unpleasant, maybe point Papyrus in its direction if it’s something Papyrus can take care of. (Papyrus, being awesome, can take care of a surprising number of things.)

It’s a high cry in the distance, he realizes, coming swiftly closer. It doesn’t seem to be aimed at him specifically, but he goes to investigate anyway. Kids scream all the time, even and especially the happy ones, but they get a certain note in their voices when they mean it. This kid means it.

“This kid” is Monster Kid, as it turns out, and as usual they have a knack for showing up out of nowhere at high velocities.

"Look ouuuut!"

It’s a good thing Sans knows how to duck. He dodges swiftly to one side as an orange-and-striped projectile in an undersized sled whizzes past him. Then he winces at the crash he hears a few seconds later. That had to hurt—though, well, better Kid than him, under the circumstances.

"you okay there, kiddo?"

Monster Kid's up a second later, agile and apparently mostly unhurt. "Yep! I'm good! But we gotta hurry!"

"why's that?"

Sans has the feeling he kind of doesn't want to know. But he's being responsible today, and under the normal cheerful façade, Kid seems genuinely freaked out.

“C’mon!” The kid’s already bouncing from foot to foot, eager to be off again. “We gotta hurry. Up in the mountains, Frisk, they…oh man, I don’t know but it’s really not good! We gotta go!!”

Sans can think of more things Frisk could have done than he cares to count. But thinking about the Frisk of the past few weeks, he finds that most of those options aren’t ones he’s worried about at all.

“all right then,” he says. “lead the way.”

He puts one hand on Kid’s narrow shoulder as they walk, guiding them through a few shortcuts to speed the walk along. If they notice, they don’t show any sign. They’re leaning eagerly forward, always a step away from breaking into a run. It’s dangerous, on terrain like this, but when Sans spots the little figure slumped over at the treeline, he picks up the pace, too.

Fallen in the snow…and not like those times after fighting Papyrus, either. The little human’s HP is draining even though they haven't been attacked, and if he double-checks…

It’s a little tricky, and he _really_ doesn’t like thinking about fighting this kid. But if he squints just so, he can still see their heart, soul, whatever the humans call it, fluttering in their chest.

It isn't just cracking. It's _fading_ , right in front of him.

Sans bites back a curse—for Kid’s sake, Frisk doesn’t seem conscious—and hefts the kid up under the arms. It isn't easy: they're about his height, which makes things awkward.

“good job,” he says to Kid. “can you get back from here? gotta get this one back to tori.”

“Sure thing, dude!” Kid nods vigorously.

“and head straight back. no dawdling, ok? i’m on guard duty today, so i’m serious. go find papyrus.”

Kid perks up a little at that. “Yeah. Yeah!! I’m sure he’ll know what to do! I’ll go find him right away!”

“you do that,” Sans says, but Kid’s already on their way out, skidding a couple times as they go and using their tail for balance. Sans turns his attention back to Frisk, dragging them the dozen steps it takes to vanish into a shortcut behind a nearby tree…

…and coming out at Asgore's place, not Tori's. Well. He supposes that’s what he gets for rushing things.

"What…?"

Ouch. Yeah. He wasn't around back when the King lost his children, but he'd imagine that Asgore’s face looked something like this back then, too.

But Asgore takes only a second to look horrified before jumping into action. "Get the queen," he says grimly over his shoulder to Undyne. Sans hadn't noticed she was there; she's pale as a dead fish under her scales, but she hurries to obey.

Asgore hurries over, taking Frisk into his arms. "What happened?" he demands.

"not sure," Sans says. "kid found ‘em out in the forest by themself. couldn’t exactly carry frisk back, so they told the first person they could find."

“Well, thanks for bringing them here.” Asgore lays Frisk down on the couch and looks them over, comically huge paws hovering distractedly as he checks them from head to toe. “They don’t seem injured, but—“

“yeah. something’s wrong.” Sans makes his way to the other side of the couch.

“I…” Asgore shakes his head. “This doesn’t look like anything I recognize. You?”

“nope,” Sans agrees. “we don’t get humans all that well. maybe they’ve got some disease we didn’t know about.”

Asgore frowns. “Wouldn’t they have told someone?”

Sans doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what goes on the kid’s head at any given time, and he doubts anyone does. Still… “maybe they didn’t know either.”

Asgore’s about to answer again when the doors spill open. And then again a few minutes later, and again, and again, as word spreads and the monsters who Frisk is closest to begin to arrive. Most of Frisk’s friends are very important people in the monster community; being a hero will do that to a person. They had to travel all across the underground to meet them all, because they all live in different places and have different jobs to take care of. They’re all pretty busy, too, which has to be tough on the kid sometimes. But this time, to their credit, they all come running when they hear that Frisk is down.

Toriel makes it there first, accompanied by Undyne. She only has eyes for Frisk, hurrying over and joining Asgore at their side. The two of them don’t so much as look at each other, but that doesn’t stop them from trading theories. Sans is a pretty smart guy, but although he understands most of what they’re saying, he gets the feeling he’s missing a significant portion of what they’re _not_. They’re both more experienced than anyone else at this, so he sits back and lets them bicker.

Papyrus drags in a panting Alphys with him; Undyne had texted her, but it seems like Papyrus found her on her way over. She…really doesn’t look good, but that’s about all Sans has the energy to notice. Toriel’s using her healing magic, face drawn with concentration, and Asgore’s holding her hand, lending her some of his power. Undyne and Papyrus join in, eager to help, but shortly afterwards a runner appears—a big white bear-monster that used to live in Snowden.

“Your Majesty, there’s a report that there’s a human on the outskirts of town,” he says.

Asgore looks torn for a moment, glancing down at Frisk, but Undyne pulls away from their circle and joins the monster. “I’ll go figure out what this is about,” she says grimly. “You worry about Frisk.”

Asgore nods, and Undyne starts grilling the monster as he leaves the room.

It doesn’t take long before Toriel steps back, breathing a little easier and releasing Asgore's and Papyrus's hands. “They should be stabilized for now,” she says, and is interrupted when the door bangs open and Mettaton comes rushing into the room. Sans thinks he’s alone at first, and then spots Napstablook lurking in his shadow. It’s unusual to see Mettaton without his retinue, or for that matter a spotlight, and without them he seems a little diminished. There’s not much of an audience for him to perform to right now, Sans thinks, but he looks distraught anyway.

“I heard what happened,” he said. “Or rather that _something_ happened. Would anyone mind telling me what _actually_ happened?”

“I’m not sure we know,” Asgore says solemnly. “Sans was the one who found them, but…”

And just like that, all eyes are on him.

Reporter was not a job that Sans signed up for today. He doesn’t exactly have many answers, and his voice doesn’t carry well, either…but it would seem there’s little choice. He sighs and gets to explaining.


	12. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk wakes up, and makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember this story? It's okay, me neither. (No, really. I had to do quite a bit of reorganization of my notes just to remember where I was going with this. It's an ongoing process, honestly, but I think I'm getting there.)
> 
> I apologize in advance for any errors! I'm trying to catch them as best I can, but given how long it's been, my goal is to get this thing finished however possible, rather than spend too much time on edits. That also means the story might be a little more rambly than usual...let's just say I'm doing the best I can. ^^;

"…i was actually aiming for tori's, but, uh. i missed. happens every now and then."

"THAT'S WHY I TELL YOU NOT TO TAKE SHORTCUTS, SANS!! UGH, YOU'RE SO RECKLESS…BUT IT DID BRING FRISK TO SAFETY MORE QUICKLY, SO IN THIS CASE I CAN'T EVEN SCOLD YOU—"

You're not really sure what's going on, but Papyrus is nagging Sans, so whatever it is, it can't be that abnormal…

…or that's what you think, but a second after your eyes open, everyone is staring at you, and you realize that no, this situation isn't normal at all. 

"Frisk!" Your name comes from several places at once, jolting you closer to awake. There's a lot of faces around, looming a bit closer than usual. It's not a cave ceiling you're seeing this time, though, and you didn't see anyone in a dream sequence or have any revelations about ancient monster history. You kind of wish you had, because you have no idea what's going on. 

You're…lying on Asgore's couch. You've never really laid down on it before, and the angle makes the room look unfamiliar. You try to push yourself up, but three different pairs of hands reach out to hold you down at once. Sans is perched on the top of the couch, 

You're not really sure what's going on, which is weird because you're the center of attention. Shouldn't you know? You should probably have a better idea.

You're a little grateful when there's a loud banging sound from the back of the room, and Undyne appears, looking haggard. When she sees you, her face brightens. 

"Frisk!! Hey there, kiddo!" She leans over and ruffles your hair, a little rougher than is strictly comfortable. "You had us worried! How are you feeling?"

You give her a little shrug and a smile, and hope that'll do for now. She looks preoccupied. 

Apparently you guessed right, because she lets it slide. "We have a bit of a situation," she tells Asgore, over your head, "but for the moment I think it's mostly been handled. A human kid from the town went missing, and their guardian came to pick them up. They're humans we know." 

You freeze, as bits and pieces of memory start to come back to you. 

"I don't recall seeing any children around City Hall," Asgore says, troubled. "Missing, you say?" 

"On their way up the mountain, I think," Undyne says grimly. "But they're back. Said that a monster found them partway up and brought them to the outskirts of the monster town instead. They say they didn't see who the monster was, but I don't buy it…" 

Undyne's frowning, hands on her hips, frighteningly sharp teeth worrying her lower lip. "They're a good kid—I've talked to them before. I thought we were getting along…but I don't think they're telling me everything. But…whatever!! I can worry about it later. Frisk, seriously, what happened?"

A warm hand gingerly reaches up to curl around your head, pads of furry fingers brushing against your hair. "You scared all of us silly, Frisk," Asgore says seriously, and his warm, rumbling voice somehow manages to be calming even though he's obviously upset. 

Toriel, not to be outdone, takes both of your hands in hers, chafing them gently. You hadn't realized how cold you felt until just now—you feel the weird-warm, tingly feeling you get in your fingers when you spend too much time outside without gloves, only it's over most of your body. 

You kind of don't want to change the subject yet, though. You make yourself meet Undyne's eye. "The human child…"

"Yeah, yeah, they're fine," Undyne says impatient. "Don't try to change the subject!"

You shake your head, stubborn. "'M not." 

"What do you mean, 'not'?!" Undyne's glaring at you now. "Seriously, what were you doing? What's the last thing you—”

She stops suddenly; Alphys has snuck up behind her, grasping at the hem of her shirt. She looks between you and her, and from the look on her and Alphys's face, they both understand why you're asking now. 

"i didn't see anyone else," Sans says. "not hide nor hair. no bone or scale, for that matter."

Asgore doesn't seem reassured by that. "Frisk…did someone attack you?" 

You think back, trying to remember, but if someone did do something, you didn't see it. In fact, they didn't acknowledge you at all—the monster, or the human child. You shake your head. 

"B-but even if they didn't…that means they _left_ Frisk t-there," Alphys says, voice shaking. 

You shake your head again. You're growing more and more sure, the more you think about it, that they never even saw you. 

"Frisk, seriously—” Undyne begins, but you glare her down. The glare loses steam as the corners of your vision waver a little bit, and you thump back, half against the back of the sofa, half against Asgore's outstretched hand. 

Toriel puts her hand to your brow. "I don't like how cold you are," she says. "We should get you more blankets." 

You're honestly not sure that's what you want—you feel a little uncomfortably warm, under all the tingling—but she probably knows best, so you nod and rest a bit more of your weight against Asgore. 

You take the moment, as she bustles out of the room, to get a clearer picture of the monsters in the room. Asgore's sofa is proportional to his size, so only the tip of Alphys's snout and the top of her head are visible as she peers over the far armrest. Undyne's taken up a place beside her, one webbed hand resting lightly on her crest. Sans is perched on top of it, slippered feet dangling a few inches above your own. Papyrus has you half in his lap, having helped you further upright; you can feel the cardboard of his battle body against your hip. 

Asgore is warm and soft and you're really glad you're right next to him. You're used to being closer to Toriel, but he's still nice. You can feel some trembling through the frame of the couch, but you don't think it's coming from you. You look up at Asgore, and he stills and smiles. 

A glint of metal catches your eye, and to your surprise, you spot Mettaton in the corner, and Napstablook hanging behind him. It's normal for Napstablook to look upset, especially in a room with this many people, but it's Mettaton somehow managing to look nondescript that worries you. You try to give him a sympathetic look, but he just smiles and gives you a little wave. You're...you really ought to talk to him, you think. It's not like you were trying to get away, but you still made everyone worry. 

You're remembering more and more about the moments before you blacked out, and your last thought back then comes back to you. You didn't see anyone there when you fell...but somehow or other, at some point, everybody came. 

You take a few fingers of Asgore's hand—that's all you can comfortably hang on to, with their size—and take Papyrus's hand as well. You want to thank them, but it takes a moment for the words to come out. 

Papyrus seems to understand what you want to say, though. "I'M GLAD YOU'RE AWAKE, FRISK!" he says. "WE WERE WORRIED." 

You nod, and shrug helplessly. You're still not at all sure how you're going to explain, especially since you have no idea what made you fall down in the first place.

You're starting to wonder whether humans can fall down like monsters when Toriel comes back and distracts you completely by taking you briskly away from Asgore and bundling you up like a small human burrito. "There," she says a moment later, pleased by her handiwork. A pointed glance at Asgore, and suddenly she's beside you on the couch, one hand running through her hair. Asgore, maybe to assuage his pride or maybe just to be useful, gets you a glass of water. You wrestle your arms out from under the blankets to take it. It feels a bit nice going down, the coolness against the growing heat of the blankets and the fireplace, but it sits oddly heavy in your stomach. 

"Now, Frisk," Toriel says, patient but still insistent. "What happened?"

You explain as best you can. It's hard—words aren't easy to come by today—but you make do.

"And...you're sure it was a River Person?" Toriel asks when you're done. "How strange." 

You nod. You wish you were more certain, because you don't want to blame someone just based on a "maybe," but it's still your best guess.

"Frisk…there are a _lot_ of River People," Asgore says heavily. "And most of them live on their own, away from the other monsters. They have a lot of secrets. Maybe some of them don't like humans, or even don't like living aboveground."

You think of the mushrooms they gave you, and something twists in your stomach, but you're not sure if it's guilt, or fear, or something else. They gave you something. Did they tell you not to tell anyone, or did they just really make it _seem_ like a secret? You can't remember. …But no, it hadn't even been a secret, had it? It'd been something serious, but they'd been friendly.

"I think…" you begin. "I think I should go see the river people."

"NOT NOW, SURELY!" Papyrus's sudden voice beside you makes you jump. "THIS IS AN IMPORTANT ISSUE, BUT THE OTHER HUMAN CHILD HAS BEEN RETURNED SAFE AND SOUND. THERE ISN'T ANY RUSH!! YOU NEED TO STAY PUT UNTIL YOU GET BETTER!"

It's been a little while since you saw this side of Papyrus—the last time, he'd kept you in a "kennel" with food for your own good when you had trouble dodging. He'd been just as placidly good-natured then too. You appreciate his concern, but it isn't going to stop you. 

When you look over at Toriel, though, she's sharing a worried glance with Asgore. Then they both turn to you, and it's one of the first times you've seen them agreeing with each other. You're actually a little scared of what you see from both of them. 

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Papyrus, child," Asgore says heavily. "It's good to know where this started, and we'll look into it, but for now the best thing you can do is rest until you're well."

Toriel agrees, eyes steely. She pulls you into her lap. "Until we know what happened, I'm not letting you go anywhere." 

The other monsters shrink a little bit at that. You can understand why—you're a little afraid, too. Right now, Toriel reminds you more of the monster who first showed you what a true boss battle was like. You don't entirely like the way you're pinned; under her fur you can feel her muscles like iron bands. You don't let yourself struggle, and instead look around at the others, trying to read the situation. 

Your eyes fall on Mettaton. He's staring straight at you. You're not sure how to interpret the expression on his face, but it doesn't look like a happy one. 

Eventually, Alphys speaks up. "S-so, uh, now that that's settled, maybe we can talk about the crowd gathering at King Asgore's door? Should we m-maybe be doing something about that?"

Crowd? The living room isn't that far from the door, but the curtains are shut, and you haven't heard much of anything from outside. 

"Oh, right." Undyne cracks her knuckles. "That, I can handle. They just need a little explainin', right?"

You frown and tug on Toriel's sleeve, confused. 

"It is all right, little one," she says, sounding tired. "The monsters around town are simply concerned. Kid is the one that found you; I cannot blame them for talking to their friends, but it seems word has spread rather further than just that." 

Alphys pipes up. "Yeah, there's some stuff on the Undernet, too. I didn't start it!" she adds quickly, as you feel Toriel turning to give her the Look. "B-but I've been telling people not to p-panic, because I didn't think it'd help..." 

“Good thinking,” Asgore says, and Alphys visibly relaxes. “Undyne, if you could, please ask the monsters outside not to worry. They should be enjoying their snow day indoors with their friends and families, and we’ve got things more or less handled here.” 

“Understood,” Undyne says. “I’ll be right back.”

“we should probably get going too, huh.” It isn’t really a question, and you see Papyrus start to frown.

“BUT FRISK—”

“—has the king and queen to look after them, and needs to rest,” Sans says. “plus, I bet undyne could use help with the explaining, bro. you’re pretty boss at that.”

“THAT’S TRUE…I AM PRETTY ‘BOSS’…”

Sans reaches down to elbow him, and then hops off the back of the couch. “see? c’mon, we’ll check back in a little bit. i kinda want to know what the deal with that other human kid is about.”

That seems to decide Papyrus, who salutes to Toriel and Asgore. "IN THAT CASE..."

"I...I'll come too," Alphys says hurriedly. "Just to see you out. Maybe Undyne will be able to use my help…?”

“probably,” Sans agrees. And then turns to look at Mettaton and Napstablook, since they’re the only ones who haven’t agreed to leave.

The two of them trade a look that Sans can’t make out, and then Napstablook drifts sideways through the wall and presumably back home, leaving a halfhearted “bye…” in their wake. Mettaton takes a breath before speaking.

“I’d like to stay for a little bit, if you don’t mind,” he says. “I promise I won’t be a bother, but there’s a teensy matter I’d like to talk with you about, your Majesties.”

You squirm a bit in Toriel's arms, nervous, but nobody's looking at you. Sans freezes for a second—his way of looking taken aback, you're pretty sure—but then shrugs and says, "suit yourself."

With that, Undyne leads the others in a small gaggle out the door. As it opens, you hear, for the first time, the clamor of the monsters outside. Above it all the unmistakable voice of Monster Kid, high-pitched and concerned. "Yo, what's going on? Are they okay now?"

The door shuts before you can hear Undyne's response, and it's just the four of you in the room now. You're a little glad it isn't just Toriel and Asgore, but this isn't very comfortable, either. 

Asgore sighs heavily. "At least give them a few minutes to clear the crowd away before you leave, if you can stand it." 

"Thank you," Toriel says stiffly. She doesn't sound very appreciative.

This, you decide, is going to be a problem. You wriggle out of Toriel's arms, and after reflexively grabbing back at you for a second, she lets you go. You fight your way out of your blanket cocoon, putting the blankets in a pile on the couch between Toriel and Asgore. You stretch a little bit, rub at your chest where it still feels a little bit sore, and then give Mettaton a pointed look and go into the kitchen.

He helps you with the stepstool as you climb up to get cocoa powder from the top shelf, then grab milk from the refrigerator. You make a quick search through the herbs and spices before you find peppermint. It's not extract, and you doubt Asgore keeps edible sparkles lying around, but it's a start. 

You point at the assembled ingredients. "Show me?" 

He does. You start to get tired after a few minutes of stirring, and he picks you up and settles you on the counter, a safe distance from the stovetop. 

"What are you thinking right now, darling?" he asks quietly, voice almost completely covered by the sound of the whisk.

You pause to consider, thinking back to your last conversation. "I need to talk to the River People," you whisper finally. "It could be important." 

"Looking back on your grand adventure, it's not surprising that you'd feel that way," he says, diplomatic. He pours the mixture into a pan and sets it up to heat. Monster cocoa doesn't look like it takes very long to cook. You feel your stomach rumble as the smell of warm chocolate and peppermint starts to spread.

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" he asks. "I understand where Their Majesties are coming from. You don't seem well." 

You nod again. You really need to go. It's been too long now for you to still be doubting your instincts about that much. 

Mettaton rests his hands lightly on your shoulders. "In that case, I wish you luck. I'd offer you help, but I'm sure you can do perfectly well on your own." He chuckles. "That, and I'd hate to have them angry with me. Even celebrities have to be careful around kings and queens, after all." 

You nod. "If I don't come back...will you tell them?"

He takes the heated cocoa off the stove, making a great show of blowing on it to cool it down. "Tell them what, darling?"

"Where I've gone."

"What about why?" 

"...I don't know why." It's annoying to admit, but it's true. "I just know it's important. They'll understand." 

"That's the hero in you talking," Mettaton sighs. "I don't think they'd want you to go."

"...They have their reasons." And you have yours. You don't know exactly how much the current generation knows about the Dreemurrs, and the truth behind that day. ...Maybe the River People will know something about that, too. They certainly seem to be gossips. 

Mettaton hands you a mug, and it's all you can do not to down it all at once, despite the fact that it's almost hot enough to burn your lips. You feel something in you heal, a bit, and lean your head against Mettaton's shoulder. 

He wraps an arm around you, pressing his hand in the space between your shoulder blades. "Maybe it doesn't have to be now, sweetheart," he says. "I'm all for dramatic timing, but you've had a rough day. You need to rest." 

You don't say anything. You know how this works; the longer you wait, the easier it's going to be for Toriel to stop you. You're going tonight.

Mettaton just sighs, understanding what you're not saying. "Be careful," he says. "Take your phone. Don't be afraid to call for help if you need it."

You learned that lesson today. You nod and hug him, then hop off the counter and go back to Toriel. Mettaton follows, posing dramatically against the living room wall.

Toriel looks you over and scoops you up again. "Are you ready to go home, my child?"

You nod against her chest. There are still a few hours of the day; if you're leaving tonight, you'll need to rest now to gather your strength.

Asgore, meanwhile, turns to Mettaton. "Ah. You were saying there was something you wanted to say to us?"

Mettaton hesitates. "Now that I think of it, I think it can wait," he says finally. "I'm sorry to bother you." He winks, the picture of an irrepressible celebrity. "I'll make it up to you by doing my very best to keep the paparazzi off."

Asgore looks a little bewildered at that, but waves off Mettaton's dramatic bow with a murmured thanks. Mettaton leaves, and the glimpse you catch of the front porch shows that it's cleared out. Toriel sets you down so you can put on your sweater and scarf, and then picks you right up again. You're not this much of a little kid, but she could probably carry most of your friends one-handed, so you accept it for now. Besides, despite waking up only a little while ago, you're finding yourself tired again. Toriel says a quiet goodbye to Asgore and leaves a little while after Mettaton, taking you the short distance to her house.

You're asleep before she makes it to the front door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning to have updates be a bit more frequent from here on, but I still haven't totally finished outlining, let alone writing, so I can't make any promises just yet. Hopefully I'll be able to soon. 
> 
> Thanks to those of you who've read this far and are still interested in this story!


	13. The Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk finds an unexpected friend, and learns a little more about the situation at hand. (They may yet end up wishing they hadn't.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd as always, heh. But actual plot happens in this chapter, which is a nice change! 
> 
> See the end of the chapter for (fairly mild) warnings, but again, if major character peril bugs you, this may not be the fic for you.

Sneaking out is about as easy as you'd anticipated. 

You wake up late; it's winter, so the darkness comes early, but the sky outside your window is totally dark. Toriel put you in jammies, and you find a meal outside your door. Something about the heavy smell of it puts you off, and you decide to pretend you didn't see it. You nibble at a mushroom instead. You're starting to run out. 

You've been feeling worse for a while lately, and these mushrooms were some of the only things that have helped. If you didn't already need an explanation from the River People, you'd probably have needed to visit them soon anyway. 

You poke around the edge of the doorway, skirting the plate on the floor, and peer downstairs. There's a dark figure sitting by the fire, apparently reading. Toriel. Boss monsters don't always seem to sleep at night, so she's probably waiting to make sure you don't sneak out. 

But this isn't like the Underground; she doesn't know all the ways around. You manage to open your window, and slowly and carefully jiggle out the screen. You dress silently, keeping an eye on the door, but the house stays quiet. You climb out onto the roof and shut the window carefully behind you, though there's nothing you can do about the screen. 

You take a moment to peer up at the star-filled sky. It's clear tonight, and on the mountaintop with only a few lights illuminating the village, it's incredibly clear, the Milky Way visible as a lighter-colored stripe against the black of the night. 

It's much better than a cave ceiling, but the caves are where you need to go. You slide carefully off the roof and fall with a _flumpf_  to the ground below. You don't wait to see if Toriel notices, scurrying off into village. You stay away from the main road and skirt the treeline instead, hoping to avoid notice. 

There's more than one path through the village, unlike the Ruins, but that doesn't change the fact that you only know of a single entrance to the Underground. You're not sure if it's going to be guarded. 

When you get there, you're in luck—it's the Dogi on duty tonight. There are sticks all over here, on the forested hillside, so you teach them a little trick: dogs can play fetch with _each other_ , if they take turns throwing the stick. From there, it's a simple matter of slipping into the tunnel when neither of them is looking, and you're on your way down the tunnel. You can't use the flashlight attached to your phone right away, but soon enough there have been enough twists in the tunnel that you're sure the light won't be visible from the surface. 

You make your way down carefully. When you make it to the capital, it's mostly empty, as the city has pretty much adapted to surface time. It's as peaceful and quiet as you remember down here, but feels warmer, compared to the ever-colder air outside. By the time you get to the CORE and Hotland in general, you've long since taken off your coat, folded it as tightly as possible, and stowed it in your bag. You may need it again a little while, but you're traveling slowly and carefully tonight. The last thing you want is to have to interrupt your trip to call for help. 

You do stop for a little while in Hotland, in an out-of-the-way corner, and lean against the wall. You're a little short of breath, but at the same time, the heat and light are both pleasant and welcoming. You feel a few beads of sweat drip down your neck and forehead, and then your eyes threaten to close and you push yourself up, forcing yourself to keep going. 

Luckily, there isn't much further to go; you seat yourself by the dock next to the river and wait. 

The River People take a long time to arrive—so long that you start to rethink your strategy. The gaps in the boards are pinching at your skin, and your toes actually cool to the point that it starts to be uncomfortable. Worse, you're feeling sleep creep up on you again, even though you spent the afternoon sleeping. Is this what Sans feels like all the time? 

The thought comes to you again, that maybe there's something wrong. Well, there almost certainly is, but what you've learned about monsters can't really help you here. You're a human with human sicknesses, and monsters don't seem to know the first thing about human health. After all, Sans and Papyrus didn't even know about heartbeats. Alphys might know more, but you hope you can avoid worrying her by asking. For now, all you can do is try to get by. You settle your back against one of the piles at the end of the dock and eat a mushroom as you wait. 

It perks you up for a little while, but apparently it's only temporary, because the ferry arrives without waking you up. Instead, you awaken with a start when something—some _one_ —touches you. 

You nearly jump out of your skin, expecting an attack, but your HP doesn't drop, and you stare at the River Person in front of you, panting. 

"Are you all right?" they ask, hand still outstretched. "Sorry for the wait. We don't get many late-night customers."   


They don't charge for their services, so calling you a "customer" strikes you as a little strange, but that isn't important right now. "I want to talk," you say. 

"Sure," the ferry person says. "But where do you want to go while you do it?" 

"I want to go where you live," you say. "I need answers." 

That makes the River Person pause, and straighten, hand disappearing once again beneath their cloak. "Is that so?" they say, calmly. 

"Please," you add. "I don't want to fight. You've heard of me, right? If you try to hurt me, I'll just dodge and run away. I don't hurt anyone." 

The lie rankles a little bit, and you think of the light of the Save point behind you. Every now and then, reflections from it are just visible on the river's surface. You didn't hurt anyone... _this_  time around. You're painfully aware that without the good luck of Toriel rescuing you, you would have hurt Asgore—killed him, even, or at the very least caused the situation that led to his death. But you went back and did it over, and so now no one seems to know. 

Except Sans, and of course you. And for those two reasons, you can't quite get over the feeling that it _counts_. But still, this monster doesn't know. And you're not above a little bit of lying when you really don't want to hurt anyone anyway. 

They look you over, still silent. And then they say, "You have people who will miss you." 

Your chest hurts. You rub one hand over it carefully. "I don't mean to _stay_ ," you say. "I just wanna talk." 

"You may not want to." 

This River Person's voice is gentle, patient, and kind. You're pretty sure you haven't talked to them before; it isn't a voice you recognize. But the way they're talking to you is...strange. Like you're not a stranger. They still seem wary, but not like most of the monsters are. 

You shake your head. "No, I do." 

"Very well, then," they say. "Climb on in and relax. It's going to be quite a journey." 

You settle yourself in the center of the ferry and wait. The gentle rocking of the boat on the waves and the faint, humid breeze combine to lull you into sleep. 

* * *

You wake up a few times before you actually arrive—not fully, just enough to get the sense that a great deal of time has passed. You wake up for real when the boat stops, thumping softly against some sort of mooring. 

It's been several hours at least, and it almost feels like dawn is coming soon—or, at least, you're steeped in that odd, cold feeling of getting up a little before dawn. The air around you is heavy with the smell of water, neither cool or warm, but you find yourself shivering and reach into your backpack for your coat again. 

The River Person waits without comment as you put it on and stumble out of the boat. They catch you, briefly, when you almost fall. 

"When was the last time you ate?" they ask. 

"Before I left." 

"You don't look well," they say. 

You don't know what to say to that, so you stay silent. 

"Can you walk?"

Instead of answering, you leave the dock. The world takes a moment to steady under your feet; you attribute that to the rocking of the boat and keep moving forward. 

The land of the River People is shrouded in darkness. Like Waterfall, there are some lamps set in the walls, but the area you're in is massive; most of the wall sconces just serve to show how far away the walls themselves are. But there are also a few lanterns ahead, suspended from poles in rickety-looking structures. You make for those, and feel rather than hear the River Person sweep up behind you, leaving their ferry tied to the dock. 

It looks a little bit like a very, very old human village. There are people in cloaks all around, with ramshackle lean-tos appended onto one- and two-story houses. The streets are narrow and winding, and once you start to pass between buildings you almost immediately lose sight of the lights on the walls. Half of the landscape in front of you is dark enough that you can see absolutely nothing. 

The River Person behind you coughs. "If you want, I can get a lamp," they say. "Otherwise, you could hold onto my hand or the hem of my cloak. Which would you prefer?" 

In answer, you take their proffered hand. They draw you half under the cloak and lead you through the streets. 

You can feel uneven cobblestones under your feet, and catch glimpses of shadows on the walls as you walk. You feel a little bit like you've walked into a nightmare, but the brittle, dry-leaf feeling of the River Person's hand and the smell of warm earth and river water are grounding. 

You don't walk for very long before you come upon a building, looking similar to many of the others. You climb a rickety staircase and turn a corner into a hallway with doors on either side. Some of them are ajar, and you catch glimpses of warm light from inside. The River Person knocks on a door partway down the hall, and then steps back and waits. 

"What is it?" a voice calls. It's high, dry but somehow sweet. 

"Go on in," they tell you, soft in your ear. "Don't be afraid. She acts tough, but she won't hurt you." 

And with that they're gone, blending within moments into the shadows at the end of the hallway. You turn back to the doorway, and there's a monster in front of you. She appears to be a little smaller than an average adult human, almost entirely obscured in a dark cloak and hood, like the rest of the River People. She stands still for a long moment, appearing to look you over. You catch a brief flash of gold from under the hood before she turns around and sweeps back the way she came.

"What are you waiting out here for?" she calls over her shoulder. "Come inside. Take a seat. I'll make tea." 

* * *

The tea is warm in your hands, the hot-but-not-too-hot that you're used to seeing in monster beverages. It tastes a little woody, a little nutty, and a little sweet. The River Person's sitting in the other of a pair of over-stuffed armchairs, still staring at you. 

"Are you feeling better now?" she asks. 

The room is warm, the curtains closed on the town outside, and the fire in the grate illuminates all but the darkest corners. You're reminded a little bit of Toriel's living room, both below and aboveground. 

"Yes," you say. 

"Good," she says. "You're the human who broke the barrier, right?" 

"Yes," you say cautiously. She doesn't sound grateful, or angry, just brisk. 

She sighs, loud and long. 

You fidget a bit, drinking some more of your tea. You realize that it tastes, ever so faintly, of mushrooms. 

"I know why they brought you to me," she says finally, "but I'm pretty sure there's no way to say this nicely. And even if there were, I wouldn't be the one to try." 

You nod. You're used to unpleasant truths, and at least she's feeding you and not attacking you. You're not sure how bad it can be. 

"All right," she said, "so we're doing this my way. My way is getting this over with all at once. Bad news first." 

You swallow nervously, setting your tea aside. "Are you ready?" she asks, when that's all you do. 

You nod. 

She sweeps aside her hood, showing nothing but the glint of golden eyes and dark hair edged in gold, attached to an ancient, desiccated corpse. 

"It's a miracle you've survived this long," she says, blunt but not unkind. "For hundreds of years, no human who's fallen into the Underground has been able to return to the land of humans. 

"If you don't stay down here in the Underground, you're gonna die." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death mention. (It's the last line of the fic, too, so this feels slightly redundant. I may be doing it wrong.) 
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who's still reading! Looks like, for now at least, this baby's still chugging along.


	14. The Good and the Weird News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These middle chapters are getting progressively more awkward, it feels like. Sorry about that. There is an end that'll come up eventually—it's just a matter of getting there.

The River Person sits back after that, seemingly done. You weren't wrong about her eyes; in the empty sockets, you still see flashes of gold, like the memory of irises. They flicker faintly as she watches you. Then, to your surprise, she jerks with a fit of laughter. 

"Oh man," she says, slapping her knee. "They said the human hero was a stoic, but I didn't believe it. You're tough as nails, kid!" 

Something in her laugh reminds you of Undyne. You let yourself relax a little bit. Was she playing a trick on you? 

"For the record," she says, voice dropping into a monotone again, "I'm completely serious." 

_Oh_. You nod. 

"Okay, great! Then we move on to the good news, and the weird news. They're kind of one and the same, though." She leans forward. "You're probably wondering how I know that. It's because, once upon a time, I was human, too." 

You blink. That's the _good_  news?

"Did you really think that after hundreds of years, only six humans ever stumbled into the Underground?" she says. "Not at all! Lots of them never made it to Her Majesty, the Queen. Some of us even arrived before the human child that the royal couple adopted." 

What she's saying does make a sort of sense, you think, going cold. But how...? 

"Wondering what happened to those humans?" she asks. "Well, a lot of them died, as you can probably imagine. But not all of them—some of them were found by the River People, and invited to live here, in the Wellspring Village." She spreads her hands, which you can see are withered and gray, like the rest of her. "Sure, it's a bit gloomy, but there are enough mushrooms for all, and the River People are much friendlier to humans than most other monster communities." 

You don't understand. "Are you a ghost?" you ask finally. 

"Who knows?" She doesn't seem bothered by the question. "What I do know is, this happens to every human that comes down here, sooner or later. Some of them die when it starts to happen. The rest...keep going for as long as they want, I guess. Blend in. Some of them actually work the ferries, so you might've met one or two. We keep our heads down, and the River People protect us." 

"And leaving?" 

"Well, yes, some of them have tried to leave," she says. "Most of them don't get far, but a few of them made it out through the mouth of the river. Still, the River People have always told us that humans can't survive outside the Underground, once they've made their home here. They say it's ancient lore—a lesson that was learned before the barrier was ever erected, when monsters and humans lived side by side."

"Why?" you ask. There's an answer somewhere, you're certain. There has to be. There must be a way you can solve this. 

"Nobody's ever told me," she says. "But anyway. Are you starting to get your situation, now?" 

You think about it. It's hard not to focus on the part where you might be about to die, but you try. 

"There are still humans hidden here?" you ask. 

"Not very many," she says, "but some. We're like monsters—even like this, most of us die eventually." 

"How long have you been here?" you ask. 

"A long time," she says. "But I'm strong. There's a reason they brought you here. I've been here since before the Fallen Child." 

"And you never tried to leave?" 

She shook her head. "No." Her withered lips pull back, into what looks like it would have once been a beautiful, gentle smile. "The people here are kind. I found a home here, for the first time in my life." She chuckles with wicked humor. "I keep expecting to die, but it keeps not happening. Not that I have any complaints, but the locals have started to get ideas. Apparently in a few more years I'll have reached the lifespan of some species of boss monster. Who knew?" 

You shake your head, thinking it over. "I don't understand," you say finally.

"That's fine—we'll take it slow," she says. "Finish your tea. Somebody gave you the mushrooms earlier, right? Have one of those, too. I'll get you more. They really do help—they're magical; they concentrate the magic of the Underground. Should help you survive this, as long as you stay lucky." 

You obey, fishing out your mushrooms and eating another one. The room seems to come into sharper focus. "Are you going to let me go back?" you say. 

"It depends," she says. "On several things. Do you want to have this conversation now, or would you rather wait? You must be tired from your journey, never mind the rest of your night so far." 

"Now," you say.

"Well, all right, then." She seems impressed. "No getting you down, is there? Well, first of all: if you stay in the Underground, you'll probably be safe. You've made it this long, after all. You're clearly tough."

"I want to go back," you say immediately. 

"Well, then, things get a little more complicated." She folds her hands in her lap and leans forward. "See, like I said, there are still humans living here. In the Underground. And the River People are the only monsters who know. So here's the question, kid: are you planning to blow our cover?" 

"No," you say. 

"...I like you." She sits back, twirling a piece of her hair in her fingers. "Some of the the monsters down here are staying because they can't forget the war. If they find out about us, it could get ugly. And not just for the humans—for the River People who've been protecting us all these years."

"I won't tell," you repeat. 

"All well and good," she answers, voice sharp. "But what about the humans on the surface, hm? What if they start dying?" 

_Oh_. Several things fall into place at once, and your feel your eyes go wide as the implications start hitting you.  

"The River People have been the ones sending the messages to the King," she says. "You're pretty smart, so I bet you've figured that much out. But now you know _why_. How do you think the humans on the surface are gonna feel, if humans visit the monsters and then drop dead days or weeks later? You think they aren't gonna start another war?" 

Humans meeting monsters. "Nothing's happened so far," you start.

"Well, sure. Monsters and humans can _talk_  to each other just fine. The trouble starts when a human comes to visit." 

"They haven't." 

"For now. We've been trying to make sure it stays that way," she says. "Do you get it, yet? We can't tell everyone what the problem is, because then we'll have to explain how we know. As long as the barrier was up, things could go on as they were, but now..." She sighs. "You've set up a time bomb, kid. You _are_  a time bomb. So. Now that you know this, can you guess what I'm gonna ask?" 

Probably. You wait anyway. 

"You can't let word of this spread," she says. "The River People would want me to make you promise not to tell, if you really want to leave. But I'm not gonna do that, because I think it'll make matters too difficult. The King and Queen are smart enough to keep a secret, I can only hope. If His Majesty has a good reason, maybe he'll really keep the humans out for as long as possible. Maybe monsters can have a life on the surface, at least for a generation or two. They're kind. They deserve that." Her gaze goes distant. "I'm not sure the _humans_  deserve it, but hey, you came from them, so they can't be totally horrible. Maybe they've learned some things since I fell down here." 

She's silent for a long moment, and the look in her eyes is dark. Then she shakes herself and continues. "Anyway. I won't tell anyone you told the king, as long as he doesn't let it spread. But it's really, really important. Do you think you can convince him?" 

You're not sure. "Yes," you say anyway.

"Good." She says. "Then, second request—more for you than for us in the short term, but if you manage it, it could end up making a real big difference. Try not to die, okay? It'd make things better for everyone." 

And then she sits quietly, waiting for your answer. 

The memory of that morning washes over you, and it hits you that all this has happened in one utterly overwhelming day. Your pain and fear and loneliness, out there in the snow; the way Asgore and Toriel shook, and the way Sans looked at you, and Alphys twisting her claws together. The Snow Person on the hillside in half-abandoned Snowdin, and Monster Kid grinning at you, and the tip of the Nacarat Jester's cloak fluttering in the snow, and Undyne's cooking lesson. 

Asriel and Chara, and the fallen children's souls carrying you all out of the dark. 

You can't give up on them now. Even if you fail, you'll feel better for having tried. "I'll live," you say. Though you aren't planning to SAVE anytime soon, you feel something in your chest that you really, really hope is Determination. 

She doesn't laugh again, or scoff, or even snicker. Instead, she smiles, and the expression is surprisingly warm. 

"When you say it like that, kid, you almost make me believe it," she says. "Go. There's always someone at the dock. They'll take you as far as they can get. Go home and sleep in your own bed, and convince the King when you can. Take your time…but sooner is better." 

You hop down out of the chair, and have to steady yourself on the arm of it for a moment as the world rocks. You do feel a little bit better than before, but you're still very tired. The River Person gets up and rifles in a drawer, and comes up with an even bigger bag of mushrooms than before. 

"Remember to keep your HP up," she says as you put it in your bag. "Sleep a lot, if that helps. You'll have to start thinking like a monster: emotions are important, and if you fall down, you'll probably die. If it gets really bad, come back down here, and get to us if you can do it in secret. A lot of us think the Underground is steeped in magic; it could help you survive." 

You nod, pulling on your coat before your backpack; a few steps away from the fireplace, and you're already starting to feel cold. To your surprise, she bends over and wraps her arms around you. She smells like the other River Person, from before, but with more of the smell of earth and maybe a hint of something muskier. Her hair tickles your cheek. 

"You're a good kid," she murmurs. "None of this is your fault. Hang in there, okay? For all of us."  

You feel your eyes burn. "Okay," you whisper. 

"Good." She stands up and sweeps away, opening the door for you. "Now go. You can make it back the way you came, right?" 

It's dark, but you've managed harder. You nod. 

"Good," she said, and sweeps dramatically back into her chair, flopping down in it. "Now, off with you, before I get into trouble for letting you go." 

For a moment, she looks for all the world like an old woman, resting her bones in her chair by the fire. She looks like she could be a thousand. But then she turns and smirks at you, and the image breaks. You hurry out of the room, closing the door quietly behind you. 

You're halfway down the hallway when you hear something unexpected. From behind the closed door is a sound that is unmistakably swearing, followed by a faint _Wait—_

The door slams open. "I nearly forgot!" the River Person announces, loud enough to wake the whole hallway. She waves a piece of fabric like a flag, then balls it up and throws it at you. 

"Here," she says. "You should wear this back. It'll help you avoid notice."

It's a dark blue cloak with a bright red stripe down the back of the hood, running all the way down to the hem. You don't think it's going to help you do anything but stand out even more than usual. 

"Heh," she says. "That was mine when I first got here, but I've outgrown it, more or less. Cut some off if it's too long. Bye, then!" 

And she's gone again, the hall still and silent. You look at the cloak for a moment longer, then swish it over yourself and your bag, pulling the hood low over your face. It is a bit long, but not so much that you're worried you'll trip over it. You leave the building and slip into the shadows of the streets below. 

* * *

Without a companion, it's a little harder to make your way through the narrow, winding streets of Wellspring Village. But whether it's magic or just the straightforward comfort of warm tea and a midnight snack, you're steadier on your feet than you were before, and in the end all you have to do is follow the sound of running water back to its source. 

There is a River Person waiting. You ask them to take you to Hotland, but they're silent as they climb aboard and start to take you there. They stay silent throughout the entire trip. 

It's a much faster route than it was the first time, and you realize that you're probably going downstream. You watch the shoreline slide by, the icicles giving way to crystals far overhead, which in turn are eclipsed by the bright light of fire and lava in the distance. The river turns away near the pier where you've always disembarked into Hotland. 

"Where does it go after this?" you ask, pointing into the distance. 

The River Person doesn't answer. Disappointed, you clamber off, make sure you have all your belongings with you, and thank them. They nod, deep enough that's it's almost a bow, and then disappear the way they came. 

It seems you were right about it being almost morning; you see a few monsters out and about this time, instead of things being almost entirely silent. You get a few curious glances, but maybe fewer than you would if you didn't look like a slightly smaller River Person. Monster children usually wear horizontal stripes, from what you've seen, but then clearly the River People have lived separately for a while; nobody thinks the tiny River Person with the racing stripe merits more than a passing glance. 

Under the cloak, Hotland is particularly stuffy, but after a mostly sleepless night, you welcome the boost in temperature. You make your way carefully and quietly, keeping to the shadows. With the lighting here, even the stripe on your cloak almost fits in. 

You debate whether to take it off when you've made it by past the capital and into the corridors. You've just been passed by an unexpected change of guard and decided that no, it's probably better that you keep it on, when you feel a sharp tap on your shoulder. 

You whirl around, half-ready to fight, but it's just Sans, already pushing his hand back into his pocket. "hey," he says. 

You realize you're probably in trouble. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...So I'm not sure how clear this is coming across, but there is (what I hope is) solid reasoning behind what's going on in this story. It'll get explained clearly eventually—and hopefully I'll be able to make it make sense when it is. Fingers crossed. 
> 
> Next chapter just needs some editing, so hopefully it'll be up in a day or two.


	15. Conflicts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Frisk knows more than they can say.

"...oh, don't look at me like that," Sans says, with a half-hearted chuckle. "do I look like i've got the energy to tell you off? we got woken up around midnight by tori, y'know." 

You're _definitely_  in trouble. 

You take a moment to take off the cloak and stuff it into your bag. Then you hang your head and try to fall into step behind Sans, but he lags behind until you're walking side by side.  

"what's with the new digs?" he asks, pointing at the backpack. "almost didn't recognize you." 

You just shrug. You don't want to tell someone who teleports where you've been, just in case he goes to check. He probably would, if Toriel asked. You don't really want to put him in that position.  

"...well, if you wanna keep it _zipped_ _, fine," he says, not sounding too bothered. " but...seriously. are you okay?" _

__

"Yes." The word happens automatically, almost without you thinking about it.  

" really?"  

The way he's asking is...difficult. You might've underestimated him this time.  

Luckily, you're interrupted by the spread of sunlight as you turn a corner in the tunnel, and a moment later you're struck by the sun bouncing off the snowfall from yesterday. It would seem you spent the rest of the night and part of the morning underground. 

Sans falls behind you now, as you pick your way down the mountain. Climbing is easier than descending when there's snowfall, especially as the top layer's started to crust in the sunshine. You stumble a couple of times despite your best efforts, and at one point he catches you by the upper arm. You wait for him to say something about it, but he just lets you go and continues on. You decide to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, instead of talking. It'd be embarrassing to fall down here, you think. Wouldn't want to give anyone the wrong impression.  

But still, there's something important to do first. "Can we go talk to Asgore?"  

Sans doesn't look particularly happy at this. "I'm supposed to bring you back to tori."  

"Please." You're pretty sure you couldn't stop him if he really wanted to take you somewhere, but he's usually not that hard to reason with.  

"...fine. but if she asks, i was—" 

"HEY!" 

"never mind," Sans mumbles, and you're suddenly swept off your feet with Undyne's bared teeth inches from your face.  

"WHAT. DO. YOU. THINK. YOU'RE. DOING?!?" she yells. "WE'RE GOING BACK TO HER MAJES—TO TORIEL!!! RIGHT. NOW. Frisk, how COULD you?!"  

You frown. Of all the monsters you to make you feel guilty about this, you're a little surprised that it's Undyne. 

"If you weren't already sick," she adds, "I'd send you running laps around the town till you were REALLY sorry!"  

That sounds much more like her. You let yourself go limp and wait for her to shout herself out.  

She doesn't. Instead, she shakes you a tiny bit—nowhere near enough to hurt—and demands, "Seriously. What were you thinking??"  

And then she waits.  

And Sans, beside her, also waits.  

You take a deep breath. This is new and unfamiliar. You kind of wish that they'd just start some sort of co-op battle with you, or something. 

...Except not, because you might actually die. You resign yourself to doing your best to communicate instead.  

"I really need to talk to Asgore," you say. "It's important."  

Undyne, to your surprise, holds you out at arms' length to look at you. "Well..." she says, uncertain. "See, I was told to bring you straight back to Her M—to Toriel. Buuut...I'm going to Asgore right after! So I can report back to him right after I bring you home!" She seems pretty pleased with her problem-solving.  

And...you trust her, you really do. You want it to be that easy. But you think of golden eyes over black pits, and the words _You're going to die._ It isn't that much worse than Flowey and the things you've been told since you first fell into the Underground. Not really. And yet... 

"The human," you ask instead. That's the heart of it, really. That's the emergency, at least for the moment. "The child. Are they okay?"  

Undyne pauses briefly. You squirm a bit at the pressure of her hands around your ribcage, and she pulls you closer, resting you against one hip as she starts crunching down the mountain. You look down and notice that she's wearing thick, fur-lined boots. Over her shoulder, you see Sans following behind both of you.  

"They're fine," Undyne says slowly. " _He's_ fine, apparently, going by what his guardian said. Seems like snow messes him up because his parents died in a blizzard recently, and he got lost and went up the mountain alone."  

You hug closer to her. Humans don't fall down for no reason like monsters, but that doesn't mean they can't get really hurt. "And then what?"  

"His guardian came after him. A monster found him, too—one of the Guard, luckily enough. I recognized him immediately."  

Two humans, then. "You know him?"  

"Yeah, he works down at the human city. Asgore's been talking with him."  

That's a relief. "Can you...can you tell me if anything else happens?"  

"...Probably," she says. "You're not one to spread things around, and you're with the King and Toriel all the time anyway. But...why do you ask?"  

"It could be important," you say.  

"Sure." You feel her hands on you tighten a bit as she adjusts you. You're big for this and she's not huge like Asgore or Toriel, but her musculature more than makes up for it. "Frisk...do you think they're in danger? Is there anything else you can tell me?"  

"I heard a rumor," you say. "I don't know if it's true." The words _You're gonna die_  rise up in you again, uninvited; you swallow. "I need to know."  

"I...see," Undyne says. She sighs harshly. "I'm not sure what trouble you're getting yourself mixed in, kid, but you're gonna turn our hair white. Stop scaring us." 

"...I'm still  _me_ ," you manage. It seems like a reasonable response. After all, the only difference between now and before was that they decided to start caring about you. You've died countless times, at this point; honestly, since leaving the Underground, you've been downright responsible.  

Still, it startles a snort out of her, and Sans, behind you, laughs outright. You're not sure you've ever actually heard him make a sound that loud before.  

Undyne turns over to look over her shoulder, trying her best to look unamused, as Sans continues to crack up behind her. "It's not THAT funny."  

"haha," Sans says, wiping at his eyes. "maybe not, but wow, kiddo. you really have a way with words."  

"Heh." You turn back to Undyne, who tilts her forehead till it's touching yours, looking you straight in the eye. Her wide yellow irises and slitted pupils are disconcerting so close, but not as much as the expression she's making. "I'll look out for those two," she tells you. "I promise."  

You nod, biting your lip. You're glad she's taking you seriously.  

"In return, I want you to let me take you back to Toriel, and I want you to deal with whatever she decides to do with you." Undyne grins a little. "It's probably nicer than what I'd do. So? Will you come quietly?"  

You're honestly too tired to do much of anything else. You nod again and nestle yourself under her chin.  

You her voice rumble through her chest, soft and reassuring. "Good enough for me."  

* * *

Toriel is most assuredly not happy when you return. 

She's sitting on her armchair like she's forgotten it isn't a throne. The small mess of papers and knitting around it does very little to diminish the impression, and when Undyne sets you down in front of her, you feel tiny.  

"Well," she says, and then looks up at Undyne. "Thank you for bringing them back."  

"You're welcome," Undyne says uncomfortably. It's obvious she wants to be anywhere but here. "I'll just, uh—" 

"If you could wait a moment?" The question is gentle, but firm. Toriel glances over into the corner and adds, softer. "You, too, Sans. If you don't mind."  

"'course not," Sans says. He steps away from the wall and into the light, and you suspect he was a few seconds away from taking a shortcut out of the house entirely.  

"Frisk." You jump a little as her gaze lands on you again. She closes her eyes and sighs. "I don't understand why you're doing this. I'm concerned only for your welfare, and you're the one who said you wanted to stay here. Why did you feel the need to run off?"  

You can't answer. You _want_  to answer her, but all of the answers you have to give are either dangerous for her to know about, or would make her sad.  

You hate how familiar it is that you have nothing to say. You clench your jaw and stay silent, eyes on the floor.  

You're startled by large, furry feet in large, fluffy slippers entering your field of vision, and then you feel Toriel's hands cover your shoulders. "Are you feeling all right?" she asks. "You look pale."  

It's surprisingly hard to find your voice again. "I'm fine," you say. Your voice is shaking for some reason.  

"You are _not_ ," she says, voice stern. "You were bedridden less than a day ago. I will not pry if you don't want me to, my child—I am learning that you don't like it. And if your reaction to being kept inside is to run away, regardless of logic..." She sighs and pulls back a little, hands still on your shoulders. "Even an old monster like me can learn eventually. But that does _not_  mean that you are 'okay,' and I want you to take some basic precautions until I am convinced you _are_."  

"I have a phone," you say. You're not sure what other precautions she could mean. "And I already don't do anything."  

"You are a _child_ ," she says, sounding pained. "And once you are well enough, I want you to participate in the school I am setting up for the other children. But in the meantime...Sans?"  

Sans stays slouched with his hands in his pockets, but his voice, when he answers, is wary. "yeah, 'sup?" 

"I'd like you to keep an eye on Frisk, if that's all right," Toriel says seriously. "You can consider it a job—be assured that I will reimburse you appropriately." 

Sans takes a little while to think, apparently unhurried. "i dunno," he says finally. "if you're talkin' about me keeping 'em on a leash, not sure that's gonna fly. kid's bigger'n stronger than me, after all." 

"You're the same size," Undyne hisses.  

Sans makes a gesture that you can't quite see from your angle. He stops when Toriel coughs, clasping his hands innocently behind his back. "just sayin'. if you want someone keepin' this kid in line, i'm a bad choice. my bro'd be better." 

"...Perhaps. And if he would like to help, he is more than welcome to," Toriel says. "But I believe that your skills will come in handy. I do not care so much that Frisk not go anywhere dangerous, but that we can find them if they are in trouble. You have already rescued them once before."  

One of Sans's hands goes up to the back of his skull, fiddling with his hoodie. He seems uncomfortable. "i guess you wouldn't believe me if i said that was a fluke, huh."  

"It was not." Toriel's voice is firm.  

"yeah, figured." Sans yawns. "no good deed goes unpunished, i guess. i'll remember that."  

"Good." Toriel smiles over at him, and then stands. "Then I will set up guest room set up for you. Feel free to go inform your brother of this turn of events, and to make whatever preparations you deem necessary." 

"why not," Sans says. You can't tell if he's amused or annoyed; he's got a good poker face. "later." 

You're a little surprised when he walks into the kitchen, but when you shuffle over to take a look, he isn't there. He probably used a shortcut again.  

Toriel doesn't seem perturbed by this development. She's already halfway up the stairs. "Undyne, you may leave, if you wish. I apologize for keeping you up so late."  

"No problem!" Undyne says, and you see her fight back a salute. "Just let me know if you need anything else! I'll be in town, except when I'm helping with negotiations."  

She gives you a meaningful look, and you give her a nod and a thumbs-up. 

"Speaking of which, I gotta get back to Asgore. He asked for a report as soon as you got back safe." 

"That's…understandable," Toriel says. "Pass along my thanks for your assistance." 

"Will do!" With that, Undyne leaves, shutting the door behind her. You're left alone with Toriel. 

"Frisk," she says, "I am very disappointed in you. Take a seat, if you please."  

What happens next isn't pretty. Toriel's very good at scolding—she outlines what you did wrong, and why it was wrong, and why she's upset by it. She doesn't yell, and she doesn't say anything awful. Still, you can see the pain underneath what she's saying. It isn't her fault; you don't think she's doing it on purpose. It still hurts, though.  

"Now," she says when she's done. "I believe that you understand my feelings about this. What I do not understand is why you decided to run off, after being seriously hurt, without telling anyone. You are a smart and a kind child, and I would very much like to know why."  

You're tired, and frightened, and sad. You can't remember how much of what you've learned is safe to tell her, or how much is your secret to share. Thoughts tumble over themselves in your mind, mixing each other up. Other secrets start spilling into your head, other things you've promised not to share, Mettaton and Alphys and Flowey and Asriel...sometimes it seems like none of the things you know are really your own. It's easier to hide and learn everything, learn how to dodge and not make mistakes, but you can't SAVE up here and everything is going wrong. If you say the wrong thing, you can't take it back.  

The only thing that really has anything to do with you—that's really yours to share—is something you _can't_ say, because it'll upset her too much. What if it really hurts her? Monsters are tied to their emotions in ways that humans aren't. What if she falls down? What if Asgore does? You don't like to think that they would just because of you, but... 

You're so filled up with the things you can't say that you can't find a single thing that feels safe to say aloud. You're pressing your mouth shut so hard that it's starting to hurt a little bit. You close your eyes and rock a little, and shake your head. You can't say anything like this. You'd rather fight her than try.  

"Frisk...?"  

You shake your head again. No. She can't make you say anything. If that makes her think you're a bad child, then so be it. A good child would know what to say, without spreading rumors or making trouble. You don't, so you'll have to play the villain again.  

You feel an odd sensation, suddenly, as the room goes dark. Your heart stutters in your chest, and then appears in front of you. You're in a familiar box, and Toriel's right in front of you, arms still outstretched. She looks horrified.  

You've done this before, though. You've been the villain. You consider running, but realize that it won't do any good. You're better suited to here than you are to the outside.  

You realize, dimly, that you can't do this forever, but battles aren't about long-term planning, they're about surviving the moment. You shift from side to side slightly, trying to get used to the battle screen. You hope that you haven't gotten rusty. You ready yourself for the first attack.  

It doesn't come.  

"My child..." Toriel is saying, "I am sorry. Please, don't do this."  

You'd forgotten about fighting—how, in situations like this, it's always right there, in front of you as a valid option. In this reality, you've never used it, and you'd forgotten about the temptation. But you won't, you realize, any more than you'd say the wrong thing.  

Instead, you find yourself running through your inventory over and over, trying to decide if there's anything you can use. You should ask Alphys for an option to add a smoke bomb to your cell phone, you decide. Not that it would help in this case, because the last thing you want to do is run again.  

You decide to ACT, instead. That's the thing that usually got you out of these battles down below.  

Toriel doesn't take the chance to attack. She doesn't say anything, either. She just waits, hands out and empty.  

You try to think of what actions you can take. You start with the obvious one. 

"I'm sorry."  

She looks like she's about to cry, and still does nothing. Wrong action, then.  

You double-check that you haven't equipped a weapon without realizing it, and step forward until you're right in front of her. It's hard like this, but you try to give her a hug.  

The battle screen fades, and your "heart" disappears, replaced by your entire body. You're still in front of Toriel, hugging her; you're not sure when your body moved, but it has. You remind yourself to breathe as the world spins around you before settling; without Toriel holding up part of your weight, you think you might fall. You're not used to feeling dizzy after battles, but your heart—the physical, human one—feels like it's racing.  

"Oh, my child," she says. "I am upset and angry, but I do not want to fight you. I hope never to fight you again." 

You hold on to her. You're shaking, because you're still afraid. This changes nothing. You still don't have the words to use.  

You try anyway. There's no way out of this but through. "I can't tell you why," you say, and then pause, because that isn't quite true. "I need to think first."  

"You cannot even tell me why you left?"  

"It was...important." 

"You went to see the River People, did you not?"  

You freeze again. If you don't say anything, you can't get into any more trouble than you already are. 

"You did mention it before, my child." She looks you over. "Did you make it all the way there? It is a long way, and they are a secretive bunch."  

You still say nothing.  

"...Very well." She looks a little sad, but not upset. "The important thing is that you returned. If all you truly need is time, then I can give you that much." She squeezes her hands in your own. "But please. If you do not wish to tell me, will you at least take Sans with you, instead of leaving alone?"  

You nod. You can probably do that much.  

"If it _is_ safe, will you tell me where you intend to go before you leave?"  

You nod again.  

"Thank you," she said. "Now. You did not sleep, so are you willing to rest for a few hours? I would like you to stay in the house until Sans returns, unless you would rather I take you somewhere."  

You shake your head. "I'll stay," you say. And then, "Thank you. Sorry."  

"I was once young as well," Toriel said sadly, "though the world never seemed so dangerous a place then as it does now. Perhaps it is different for humans, or perhaps you have a talent. But while you are here, I wish you to come to no further harm."  

You wish that too. You don't have the heart to tell her it could already be too late.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Traveling over the next couple of days, but I may be able to put the next chapter up anyway. If not, it'll be up Monday or Tuesday. It's nice to have a bit of a buffer.


	16. A Burden Shared is a Burden Tripled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans starts his new job. Frisk asks Alphys a favor. Undyne has distressing news to share.

Sans returns several hours later than you anticipated, but that's okay because you sleep through half the day anyway.  

You dimly remember your internal sense of time being a little bit off for your first few days in the Underground, and today feels a bit like that, only worse because the sun keeps proving you wrong in your expectations for what time of day it is. You're still oddly sluggish when you hear Toriel and Sans talking downstairs and make your way down, after a quick hair-brushing so you don't look quite so much like you just woke up. Even if you did, it's the principle of the thing. 

Sans stops talking when you walk into the room, quick enough that you suspect you were the topic of conversation. "hey," he says, raising one bony hand.  

You wave in return, and Toriel and Sans return to whatever they were talking about. (It seems to be mostly puns.) When it's clear that interrupting right away would be rude, you leave them to it and pace around the house for a little while, thinking. After a nap, it's like the problem in front of you has changed from something cloudy and confusing to something more sharp. There's still a lot to it, but now the problem is that you keep worrying you're going to forget something important, and there's a solution for that.  

You drop into the living room again to ask Toriel for a notebook. She seems a little bemused, but she directs you to her collection of office supplies, along with a handful of markers. You sit in one of the chairs by the fire and let them exchange puns and drink tea for a little while longer, and take the opportunity to make notes.  

You take note of each problem you've run into so far. You try to make diagrams. You're not great at it, but every thing you write down is one less thing for you to think about all at once. You've worked your way through a surprisingly large number of pages before your thoughts start to run out, and then you get stuck, staring at the last thing you wrote.  

There's the risk to you, specifically, and then there's the risk to the humans outside. And the risk to the monsters if something happens to the humans. You make a note considering the risk to the monsters if something happens to _you_ , too. The humans in the town almost certainly know about you, and so the people in charge there probably know. There might be a problem if they ask about you and the monsters can't give a clear answer.  

All in all, there's a lot to write down. You get so absorbed in what you're thinking about that you don't realize Toriel's left until Sans decides to make himself a bother. You see a blue hoodie appear at the edge of your vision. "watcha workin' on?" 

You shuffle the notebook away from him, finishing your sentence before slamming it shut. "Nothing."  

"really? looks like a whole lot of nothing to me." 

"Well..." you say, as a thought comes to you. You decide to go for it. "It's nunya."  

"nunya, huh? and what's that mean?" 

"Nunya business." 

Sans laughs at that. "good one, kid." 

You giggle and hop down from your perch on the chair, putting the notebook into your backpack. You want to keep it with you, for now. "Can we go somewhere?"  

"whatever you want. i'm your bodyguard, not your keeper." 

You're still kind of expecting Sans to disappear around the next convenient corner, because, well, that's sort of what he _does._ Still, there's no reason you can't enjoy his company while it lasts.  

"Alphys's?" you ask. You pull out your phone, thumbing through your contacts.  

"sure. lead the way." 

* * *

Your reason for visiting Alphys is twofold, but you're not sure whether you're going to try to finish either of your goals immediately. Besides, you want to see how she's been, and it's been a little while since you talked to her specifically. There are a number of people you need to apologize to for the other day, and there's no particular reason she can't be the first.  

She is, as you suspected from a barrage of Undernet posts, is midway through an anime break when you knock on her door. You can tell because while she's still wearing her lab coat, it's unbuttoned and there are Cheeto stains on the T-shirt underneath.  

"H-hi, Frisk!" she says when you open the door. "Thanks for messaging ahead. And S-sans! Hi. Come in! Sorry about the mess."  

It's less messy than her laboratory underground, but not by a lot. You can see a few traces of Undyne's latest cleaning rampage—there are some scuffs where she went a little overboard fighting stains. Alphys is perfectly willing, as Undyne puts it, to "stew in her own filth!!!" when she gets distracted, and so Undyne and Papyrus occasionally step in.  

"I was just downstairs, watching some...stuff." Alphys clasps her claws together. "Would you like to join me, or...?"  

"more anime, yeah?" Sans asks. "anything good?" 

"Ohmigosh there's _so much_ ," Alphys says. "I literally don't even know where to _start,_  and there's cartoons _too,_ and _dramas_ , and there's just. I can't even. You gotta help me pick out what to watch next, I can't do it on my own."  

So the three of you go downstairs into the basement—filling up almost preternaturally quickly with what appears to be video game and TV show merchandise. There's also a huge screen in the corner, attached to what looks like an even bigger computer tower than the one she has upstairs.  

(It had been Undyne's idea to remake the basement into something that Alphys would enjoy spending time in, rather than a place full of bad memories. So far, it's worked, though possibly too well; it's probably only because of Undyne and Papyrus that 

"that's quite the collection you've got there," Sans comments.  

"Y-yeah," Alphys says. "There's a lot of giveaways, and also this thing called Bitcoin...but anyway, not important!! What is important is, there is so much to do up here oh my god. Look!"  

You do look. You spend several hours looking at what Alphys has found so far. There's an entire folder of torrented anime that she doesn't let you touch, and some others where you all watch a few minutes before Sans or Alphys vetoes and puts them away. She can't quite commit to any one series for more than maybe an episode, or even only half. As it is, you get a quick refresher in a few different realms of human pop-culture over the next several hours. Alphys looks like she's having a great time.  

You check your phone and see that it's almost time for dinner. There was something you wanted to ask Alphys, and now is probably the best time.  

You wait for the end credits to roll on the latest episode, and then tug on Alphys's sleeve.  

"Yes?" she asks, turning to you.  

You hold up a mushroom. "Can you analyze this for me?"  

"Uh...sure?" She's relaxed from hours of goofing off, so the request doesn't seem to bother her; she takes the mushroom and examines it closely, then sniffs it. "Right now?"  

You shrug. "No, any time is fine."  

"Oh, okay. I can tell you tomorrow, probably."  

That works for you. You settle back in. "Thanks."  

On Alphys's other side, you see Sans giving you a look, but when you turn to look at him, he settles back to look at the television.  

"...Actually..." Alphys fiddles with the remote control attached to the television, transforming it into a gaming module under her hands. "I was gonna show you some games, too, but it's getting late. I should try to actually try to get some work done before tonight. Did you want to stay for dinner?"  

Sans looks over at you, waiting.  

You shake her head. "I was hoping to talk to Undyne," you say.  

"Well, she m-might not be back until late," Alphys says. "It depends on how things go in the human town. She seemed pretty serious this morning. She left early, too." 

You realize that Alphys probably didn't hear about your excursion at all. You turn to Sans, and the wink he gives you seems to convey that yes, your disappearance was kept quiet. "some weird stuff came up today," is all he has to say about it. You decide to not borrow trouble for once, and follow his lead.  

"Oh." If Alphys wants to pry more, she's hiding it very well. Maybe she's gotten used to it, with all the stuff she's been doing lately. Her eyes dart between her phone and the television, and she looks pained. "Ohhh. I wanna watch more, but I should probably make sure the servers and the electrical system are running okay...all right. Quick systems check, and then if you guys want to stick around till Undyne gets back anyway, then I can show you some games! Sound good?"  

You both agree. You examine Alphys's growing collection from a safe distance while she goes upstairs, and Sans appears to settle in for a quick nap. You've never seen him around for this long, but since coming to the surface it may be the first time you've seen him sleeping. You do your best to keep quiet as you continue to poke around.  

Upstairs, you can hear the sound of Alphys shuffling around, a few electronic sounds, and some low muttering. It's interrupted by the sound of a door opening, and then some shouting and giggling. You stay downstairs until you hear the sound of someone crashing down the stairs.  

"Hey!" Undyne says, appearing in the room. Sans opens one eye lazily. "You sure you two oughta be down here? It's getting late! How's guard duty going, Sans?" 

"can't complain," he says blandly.  

"Cool. Hey, uh, Frisk." Undyne looks over at you. "Alphy's finishing up upstairs, so...quick update. Sans, close your ears." 

"don't have ears to close or lips to seal," he says. "jus' pretend I'm not even here." He closes his eyes and begins to snore.  

Undyne bends down till she's level with you. "Okay, so. Things aren't great. I heard about it from Asgore afterwards, but...apparently the kid from yesterday was taken to the hospital last night." 

Your stomach drops.  

"Yeah." Undyne's face is grim. "He's back home now, but they're keeping him in bed to be on the safe side. His guardian had a lot of questions, but there wasn't a lot Asgore could say. The kid wasn't even on monster lands for more than a couple of hours, max. He wasn't in the city limits for most of that, either."  

But even so, something happened. "What's wrong with him?"  

"They wouldn't tell us." 

"It's important."  

She meets your gaze. "Okay. If it's important, I'll see if we can find out. The humans are pretty upset right now, but if it was serious, I think they would've told us. He's probably going to be fine."  

You nod. Undyne looks over the figurines spread in front of you, straightening a few out of habit.  

"Frisk..." she says. "Now I'm gonna ask you a question. How did you know something was going to be wrong with the kid?" 

Your fingers twist together on your own. You don't answer.  

"That's why you told me to check, right?" she presses. "You knew something was wrong." 

"It was a rumor," you say. "I wasn't sure."  

"What was the rumor? Who'd you hear it from?" Her voice is still soft, but deeper. It's her serious captain-of-the-Guard voice. "I need to know, Frisk. This is important."  

"I can't tell you everything," you say.  

"If you don't, I'll just have to figure it out on my own." She takes your hands in hers, squeezes. It's amazing that a fighter as tough as her can have such soft hands, with fragile webbing between them. Still, her grip is firm. "Like you said. This is important."  

She's right. And not only is it important, if she goes out to investigate, she might find out more than anyone wants her to find out. She isn't Asgore, but you trust her. You hope that the River People's trust can extend that far.  

"...There's a story," you start, carefully weighing your words. "I heard it in the Underground, but I won't told you who told me."  

"Fine." You can practically hear the _for now_ , but Undyne didn't actually say it, and for now that'll have to be enough. "What's the story?"  

"It's...from a really long time ago. Before the war."  

Undyne nods. She's worrying at her lower lip as she waits. Her teeth are sharp; you hope she doesn't draw blood.  

"The story says that once a human spends time with monsters, they can't go back to be with humans."  

"Why not?"  

"They die."  

She frowns when you stop. "...And that's it? That's the story?"  

"Yes."  

"But that isn't even a story!" She practically yells it, before forcibly lowering her voice. "Was there a reason?"  

"No." Undyne's face grows thunderous. You hurry on, "But if it's true that humans couldn't live with monsters...maybe that was part of the reason for the war."  

"Yeah, maybe." Undyne still looks frustrated, but at least she's still paying attention to you. "But that doesn't make any sense! Why..."  

She freezes, gaze fixed on something over your shoulder.  

You're a little afraid to turn around, given how worried she suddenly looks. You know you're probably safe here, but it's still hard for you to turn around.  

Turns out she was looking at Sans, who's sitting up on the couch, all pretense of napping forgotten. The pinpricks of his eyes are tiny, deep in the shadow of his eye sockets.  

He sees you looking, but he still takes his time before speaking. "...interesting," he says finally. "you've been hiding more than we knew, huh?" 

For a wild second, you're afraid he's talking about the human you met with the River People. But you're sure you didn't tell anyone enough to figure that out, so that can't be it. There are so many things for you to think about that you can't keep track.  

Then he speaks again, and you realized where his mind's gone. "how've you been? in general, i mean. since we got back to the surface." 

Soft skin or not, the way Undyne's hands tighten on yours is still slightly painful. She's very strong. "Oh, hell."  

"yeah."  

They're both looking at you like they haven't seen you before. Like you've just turned into—well, not a monster, because _they're_ monsters, but something terrifying.  

_You're gonna die._   

With the new evidence of Undyne's, you're more sure than ever that the River Person knew what she was talking about. Hopefully the other human child will be fine, but he isn't you. You stayed with the monsters for what must have been months. This place is your home.  

Now, Sans and Undyne know, too. And you can't think of a single thing to say that might reassure them.  


	17. Asgore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asgore comes up against some difficult questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not entirely happy with this one, and the pacing of the next few chapters is looking like it could get a bit rocky, but we're still going. Another third-party POV chapter this time.

The day after Frisk's incident, Undyne doesn't show up for work. She left Asgore a message on her phone instead. It's formal, but terse; she makes it sound like unavoidable personal business. 

Asgore doesn't question it, though he's going to miss having her at his back. He enjoys the security she brings, aside from simple physical defense. She's got a good head on her shoulders, and in some ways he trusts her moral compass more than he does his own. As much as he misses Toriel's participation in his political decision-making, he's prepared to find substitutes where he can, and Undyne definitely counts. 

But that doesn't mean he isn't willing to work alone when necessary. So he goes without Undyne to the human city, and meets a very apologetic secretary, who tells him that the human he typically works with hasn't reported in, and indeed has been impossible to contact so far.  

The man has never been late before now. Asgore hadn't seen him when he came into Ebott Town the previous day, guided there in search for his ward, and so he hadn't been able to discuss their plans. The thought had occurred to him that perhaps the incident would change things, but he thought that the invitation to resume negotiations that arrived later that day had been a sign that there had been no further difficulties.  

He sits in the standard meeting room, reads over his notes from the previous few days, and does his royal best not to feel oddly abandoned, here in the human room with the ceiling slightly too low to be entirely comfortable. Outside, the sky is a disconcerting, bright blue. He checks his phone, but sees no new updates from Undyne.  

He thinks about what he wants to say, until he's almost got all the words lined up in his mind. It was an unfortunate incident, yesterday, but overall it seems like it was a good thing the monsters were there to help. The element of the mystery monster essentially kidnapping the child is certainly a problem, but he doesn't want to put too fine a point on the rescue. Still, he believes that he can find a middle ground— 

His line of thought is sidetracked when the negotiator arrives. Always impeccably groomed till now, he looks harried and vaguely crumpled, wearing day-old casual clothes and an anxious expression.  

"I'm sorry," he says before he's even partway through the door. Asgore stands, concerned, but he doesn't even seem to notice. Instead, he half-drops his briefcase on the desk and opens it, shuffling around until he finds a legal pad. He scribbles on it for several minutes, and Asgore waits. He doesn't know what's going on, but he knows the value in avoiding a rush.  

"I'm sorry," he says again, looking up. "I've just come from the hospital. I'm sure you've heard, but there was an incident with the ward under my care...he's home now, but we still don't understand entirely what happened. I wanted to ask you some questions, to see if there's anything you might be able to tell us."  

* * *

Some days, the role laid at Asgore's feet weighs more heavily than it does on others. 

The past few weeks, it has been lighter. Talking to humans without weapons in hand, exchanging information and deepening understanding—these are things he's good at. They leave him awake at night out of eagerness to keep working, not out of horror and guilt. The people he has met are pleasant, wise and intelligent and curious. They are well-suited to the job they're doing, even if it is not one they could have predicted beforehand.  

In general, the more he learns about humans, the more he understands why. Some of the reasons are bad ones. (The human population is higher than he can comprehend, and more, he thinks, than they comprehend themselves.) He is still looking for the full picture of their history, and is horrified by some of the things he has already found.  

Some, though, are good, and hopeful, and even inspiring. The humans he remembers hearing of before were hungry and frightened, fierce and ignorant, caught up in their own misery with no patience for long-term solutions. He's heard from Alphys for a long time that they've grown, and now he's had a chance to see that for himself. Education has clearly made leaps and bounds in human culture, and material wealth as well.  

Most of all, he hasn't seen a lust for magic in any of the humans' eyes so far. Then again, that may be because he's been talking only to the nice ones.  

But today he's seeing more of what he thought might be put behind him. He's seeing the shadow of war on the distant horizon, hoping that he still has time to turn around before it comes upon them in earnest.  

He feels every inch the predator he's been as he sits in front of the human ambassador and requests permission to visit his child.  

* * *

Somehow, though, he manages. He's still seen as an ally, rather than a threat—a source of potential information, rather than a clueless monster with the blood of children like this one still on his hands. He's given permission. 

"He's been discharged," the human explains as they walk. "Keeping him overnight was probably unnecessary, but we thought it'd be better to be safe than sorry. He's back at my place. I appreciate you being willing to come visit; to be honest, I'm happy to get to keep an eye on him." 

Following behind the negotiator on the way to the man's house (on foot, because human cars don't tend to fit him), he feels his pocket vibrate. It's a text from Undyne.  

_Issue resolved,_ the message reads. _Omw over. Not an emergency, but should fill you in asap. Got a question for Mr. J too._

He forces his hands to stop shaking as he enters his response. _Incident here too. Sending you an address._

He doesn't get a reply, exactly, but Undyne meets them a block away from the house's front door. She's panting and sweating, despite the cold outside, and she looks seriously concerned. She skids up to the front steps and nods to the negotiator in greeting. "Is it the kid?" she asks him in a murmur.  

He supposes it's not too difficult to guess, but from the look on her face she didn't just put it together.  

"Yes," he says.  

"What's wrong?"  

He ignores the question for now, in favor of following the man inside. The house is small, and relatively impersonal; it has a very new smell. It's also very quiet. They go down a narrow hallway and into a bedroom.  

In contrast to the rest of the house, some of the things here smell old, or at least lived-in. There's a little kid lying in the middle of the bed, with an odd blue blanket and a wire attached draped over his chest and stomach. He perks up when they come in, but he isn't looking at Asgore. Instead, he's looking at Undyne.  

"Hi," he says. His voice is small, like Frisk's; they seem to be similar in age, or at least in size. For humans, it's relatively uniform, Asgore thinks. He isn't positive. 

Still, he appreciates the opportunity to fade into the background; for him, it's a rare one. He lets Undyne do the talking, and stays in the hallway, stooping ever so slightly to see under the door frame.  

"Hey," Undyne says. "Didn't think I'd be seeing you again so soon. Or Mr. J, for that matter."  

"That's right," the human says. "I wanted to thank you for yesterday. You were a big help at a pretty weird time, and it was good to see a familiar face. I think this little guy was, too."  

"Yeah." The kid nods. "The village is neat! The restaurant place with the fire-guy—what was it again?"  

"Grillby's." Undyne leans against the wall, folding her arms. "Glad it was interesting. But you seemed okay yesterday." She looks between them. "What changed?"  

They exchange a glance, and the kid shrugs. "I dunno." 

"The hospital was confused, too," the adult human says. "I took him in to the emergency room when his lips started turning purple. There was very little warning, and no reason that I could see. By the time I got him there...well, let's just say it got worse before it got better. The hospital treated him for hypothermia, but they asked to keep him overnight when I explained I didn't know how it happened. He's been fine since then, so they said it was all right to bring him back for now as long as I contacted them immediately if something changed."  

The kid broke in. "I'm fine," he said. "I've felt fine since last night. There's nothing wrong with me."  

"You felt fine before it happened, too." The man's voice is careful and gentle, and reminds Asgore of things he doesn't entirely want to remember. "I just want to be sure."  

"You don't need to worry." The child's pout is distinctive, and had he not known better, Asgore would suspect that he and Frisk might be related. He suspects that they truly are around the same age.  

"I don't get it," he said. "I told you when I was feeling bad, and I'm telling you now that I'm fine. Do you not trust me just because I got sick once? Is that it?"  

"No." Asgore had been about to speak up, but Undyne surprises him by speaking first. "No, it isn't that. It's not because it's your fault."  

The child looks surprised that he's been interrupted. "How do you know?" It's not a malicious question, simply a curious one.  

"Because I know a little bit more about the big picture." Undyne takes a seat beside him on the bed, to everyone's surprise but the kid's. Asgore exchanges a surprised look with the negotiator as Undyne goes on. "You're frustrated because you feel like people aren't taking you seriously. I get that. But...like...they are, too. It's about you, but it's not about YOU. You know what I mean?"  

He shakes his head. "No."  

"The problem is that they don't know what happened, either. So they're scared, and they're checking every little thing." She's facing the child squarely, without any sign of trying to hide the truth from him. Asgore is frankly impressed; in her place, he privately doubts he could do the same. "Normally, what happened would be impossible, right? You were with your guardian when it started, and it wasn't cold where you were?"  

He nods. "We were indoors, after dinner. I was about to go to sleep."  

Asgore shakes off the private horror of that, the idea of Frisk calling out or coming in from another room and just being half-frozen and deteriorating, with no reason as to why...he's surprised that the negotiator's been so calm and collected. He wouldn't have been.  

(He  _wasn't,_ when it happened last time.)  

"That should be impossible, right?" She doesn't really wait for a confirmation before continuing. "And the only thing that changed from normal, that they're  _sure_  is different, is us." She raises her arm, indicating Asgore and herself. "So they want to know if we have anything to do with it. We're here because we want to know that, too." 

The kid frowns, calmer but more upset at the same time. "But...nobody did anything bad. Everyone was really kind."  

"That's good to hear. Really!" Undyne adds, when the boy's frown starts to turn to a glare. "Seriously. We're glad we haven't been acting mean. But it's still possible that we did something by accident. And accidents su—AHEM." 

The child jumps a bit at Undyne's sudden self-interruption, but Asgore catches a smirk as he apparently deciphers her curse. 

"Accidents are the WORST," she corrects herself, "so we gotta know if we did something, so that we never do it again. Get what I'm saying?" 

Though he looked surprised to get a real answer at first, the boy's mood seems to have improved. "I guess," he says.  

"Good," she says. "'Cause, see, there was a war once, a long time ago, between monsters and humans. We don't want to think of each other as bad, you know? We want to get along. And that means as few mistakes as possible." 

In front of him, Asgore sees the negotiator start, as though about to say something. He stops when the kid's head swivels and meets his eye. Asgore can't see the man's face, but the boy's eyes shine with a new resolve, and he looks back at Undyne.  

"It's not just about avoiding mistakes, though," the child says. "Mistakes are…inevitable, especially when you're doing something new. The other person has to forgive you, too. And if they're grown-ups, or more experienced than you, forgiving you is part of their  _job_. Mr. J taught me that."  

"He did, did he?" Undyne murmurs. She chuckles. "That's a pretty good lesson, kid."  

"He's a good person." The child doesn't seem embarrassed to say this in front of his guardian. Instead, he folds his arms, but it's a surprisingly gentle gesture. "I'm the one who's an expert on me, and I know more about humans than you. And I forgive you. So there."  

Undyne may say something after that; Asgore doesn't know. An unexpected rush of emotion clogs his throat, and he silently retreats from the doorway and down the hall. He has to stretch out a hand to brace against the wall, just to make sure it's still where it should be.  

He breathes. He names the guilt and grief both for what they are. It's a tragedy that the child's forgiveness can't be accepted, at least on his part, but he has no intention of sharing that information if he can avoid it.  

His silence is a kind of cowardice, but it's also a kindness—another necessary sacrifice, to save the lives of countless others. It's not only the monsters he's protecting, either.  

Someday, the humans will probably find out what happened deep underground, over the past few centuries. He does not want it to be soon. He wants a long history of peace and cooperation and understanding, before those small graves are uncovered.  

He hopes, with all the strength of his considerably powerful soul, that he wants that for those under his protection, those he can yet save. He also hopes he doesn't want that simply for himself.  

He's surprised by brown hair in his vision. Even without Asgore's years of experience sneaking around the city to avoid the public eye, the human negotiator pretty good at moving quietly. He stands at Asgore's elbow, a respectful distance away, one hand up as though he wants to touch his shoulder but isn't sure if it will be welcomed.  

"Are you okay?" His voice is low. 

"Fine," Asgore says, grimly. "I just wish that it could be as simple as your child believes."  

The man's face softens a bit at the words 'your child.' "I see," he says. His expression turns solemn then, with maybe a hint of regret. "I hope you understand that this means we're going to have to ask some new questions."  

Asgore bows his head. "I understand."  

"They may be difficult ones," the man continues. "We need to know if something about your settlement might pose an unexpected danger to humans. Do you have any idea if that's the case?"  

An  _unexpected_  danger? Normally, Asgore would put off a conversation like this one until he had examined the matter from all angles, but he's fairly certain he can answer this much. "I had no reason to suspect so until today," he says heavily. "This is as much a surprise to me as it is to you. The boy says that no one hurt him, and while some monsters are wary of humans, most don't stoop to tricks when a simple attack will do." He shoots the negotiator a wry expression. "That's one of the reasons we've asked you to keep your distance, by the way." 

"So I assumed," the man answers blandly.  

"There are some monsters who have said specifically that they want no humans to pass our borders," Asgore says. "But they've been as civil as they've been clear. I'm afraid you'll have to take me at my word for it, but I truly believe that they mean you no mischief. They are only cautious."  

"Interesting," is all the human says.  

Asgore waits. It is, indeed, an interesting thing he's just revealed. It's the first time Asgore has outright admitted that some monsters are averse to mingling with humans. 

Besides, this new revelation adds a great deal to the amount Asgore's asking the humans to swallow. Not only has he claimed part of the mountain for his people, with no real right to ask it; he's effectively banning the humans from a place they would have once been free to explore.  

The man's eyes are lost in the middle distance, and he fiddles with his glasses for a long moment as he reflects. Faintly, they hear the echo of two voices laughing together—one rough, the other high and clear. It's an odd backdrop for the man's stern expression when he looks back at Asgore.  

"So, aside from mine, no humans you know of have passed through the settlement's borders since your return to the surface?"  

The question is asked innocently enough, but Asgore immediately senses the trap behind the words. That's one thing both of them have in common, that makes them (at least as far as Asgore is concerned) excellent choices as representatives: though perceptive, they are both rather poor liars.  

Indeed, his silence stretches too long for the answer to be anything but obvious.  

"I'm going to have to ask, in my official capacity," he says, and while he looks sorry, he doesn't stop. "Are there any other humans living in your settlement, as prisoners or otherwise? And is there anything about their circumstances that it's important for us to know about?" 

Listening to the laughter peter out at the other end of the hall, Asgore draws a long, careful sigh. His position, and that of the monsters as a whole, has just become a lot more precarious.  

Still, his focus is split, even though now is the worst possible time for such a thing. He's used to conflicting priorities, and sacrificing the few to protect the many, but there is something here he cannot bear to lose—someone's trust he will not break, even if it means dragging to peoples into another war.  

He takes a second breath, just as slow and careful. He would resolve this by telling the truth, if he can. He is tired of telling lies.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the OCs in this are (loosely) based on characters from elsewhere (the adult negotiator is a mash-up). I may someday even admit who.


	18. House Arrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk spreads the word.

Sans, as it turns out, is really, really good at babysitting. When you're going through your daily routine with Toriel, he tends to disappear, except at mealtimes or when she calls him into the room. He's always there as soon as she leaves, though, or whenever she calls.

His presence isn't annoying, mainly because he's remarkably still and quiet, only talking to you if you talk first. He naps, but wakes immediately when you speak, or even move too quickly. It should be disconcerting, but it isn't. 

You think about it a little the next afternoon, while you're pretending to read, and realize that for the first time in a long time, you don't feel lonely at all. Indeed, as the day goes on, his presence by your side remains surprisingly comforting. And the first concrete proof to anyone but yourself comes that evening, when Asgore comes to call. 

Toriel and Asgore play an interesting dance; she clearly isn't happy about him being in her space, so she says she wants to inspect the site of the new school building. Asgore claims that he doesn't want to kick her out of her own house, but when she asks to listen in, he doesn't immediately agree, either. He says something about a delicate stage in human negotiations and wanting to ask Frisk's advice on something. Toriel doesn't seem to buy it, but she leaves, giving him the space that he didn't quite ask for. Sans isn't mentioned in the discussion, but he makes no move to leave, and you're grateful. 

It turns out to be handy, too, because his presence is just about the only thing that keeps you calm when Asgore explains that things have gone south with the humans and he wants you to stay inside while he tries to get out of being forced to hand you over. 

At first, when he mentions the part where you can't leave, you have the wild suspicion that you've been tricked—that Toriel's convinced him somehow to side with her in her persistent attempts to keep you penned in.

But something about the way that Sans just keeps watching, impassive and inscrutable, keeps you quiet as well. If this were that, he'd say something, or do something, or both. He wouldn't just sit there, watching. So there must be something to all of this, something real and important. 

You huddle between the bookshelf and the fireplace with a frown as Asgore explains, tone apologetic. 

"The timing's just bad," he said. "We don't know what happened, and we have to figure out what's going on. If it were a monster among humans, I would have the same concerns."

He looks into the fire instead of at you as he continues, but his voice is matter-of-fact, if perhaps a little bleak. "Life is fragile," he says, "and never more so than when people are different from one another. That's something we will have to re-learn, and the first few steps will not be easy."

Those words aren't wrong, but he's done the wrong things for the right reasons before. You continue to withhold judgment. 

"Still," Asgore says, "you told me you don't want to leave this place. I want to respect that, and to respect you as a hero who's saved the monsters in their own right. But you likely understand even better than I do why the humans have concerns." 

You do, is the problem. You just don't understand why hiding inside will help. You frown at him.

"It's a precaution," Asgore says. "I'll admit that I want to be sure you're being taken care of; that's part of it. But a big part of it is politics; I don't want to force the humans' hand." 

"politics, huh?" Sans says, the first time he's spoken since Asgore arrived. 

"More or less," Asgore says. "Keep an uncomfortable truth quiet, and people can be very good at overlooking it, even when they're already sure it exists. They just can't be forced to admit it publicly, or they'll be forced to act, too." He sighs. "It isn't lying, not really. I don't like it, but I don't blame them. They could have pretended you didn't exist forever, but some of the humans in the village would still  _know_. You went into town with Toriel at least once, after all." 

Should you have hid? You couldn't have known. And it was nice, that first day back—not so much being around humans again, which you didn't feel very much about one way or another, but being around them with Toriel by your side, watching her speak to humans with enough grace and dignity to smooth over uncomfortable first moments of surprise and alarm. 

"None of this is your fault," Asgore says quietly, echoing your thoughts. "You shouldn't have to hide from anyone. But...well. Let's put it this way." He clasps his hands together, sitting on the very edge of Toriel's chair, and leans forward. "Do you want to go back to the humans? Or, I guess, are you reconsidering your decision?"

You keep your face stony. He must have an explanation for a question like that, you think. You want to know what it could possibly be, after how he asked you at first to play ambassador, after he learned that you wanted to stay with Toriel. You want very much not to feel angry, but the feeling's rising up again. You can't help it, but you can at least rein it in.

"Even without magic, they know about human bodies better than us," Asgore explains. "If something about our way of life is dangerous, they're better qualified to figure out what it is. It's possible that just getting you away from it, whatever it is, will be safest for you for now."

It would take you several hours to explain all the reasons that that's a bad idea, and you're not sure he'd listen to begin with. But you've dealt with people being wrong before. You're already starting to think through the beginnings of an escape plan, should worse come to worst, before Sans speaks again. 

"and if the humans decide that it's safest for frisk to stay away forever?" he says. "'cause they could. it'd be pretty easy to think that."

You hadn't quite expected an ally in this. You stay quiet, waiting for what might happen. The planning (would it be better to leave? Would it be best to write a letter to Mettaton?) slows to a halt for the moment, forgotten, though part of you is still ready to pick it up at a moment's notice. 

"I don't want to let it come to that," Asgore says heavily. 

"because they aren't gonna let frisk come back?" Sans asks. "or because you're planning to stop them if they try to take them in the first place?" 

There's a twinge in your chest that makes you worry for an instant, before you realize what it is. _Hope_. You hadn't considered the possibility that Asgore might stand up for you, and yet...

"If it comes to that and I try to stop them, what do you think will happen?" Asgore asks. "How much am I supposed to risk? The progress we've made being friends with the humans? Peace between humans and monsters? Our only chance to live on the surface?" 

He wasn't speaking too loudly, but the words are sharp; they echo around the house, hovering in the corners. You're glad that Toriel left when Asgore arrived; it's hard not to cower from those words. 

The next moment, though, his voice softens. "I'm sorry; that wasn't fair. My point is, I doubt that's what you'd want, Frisk. Am I right?" 

He isn't wrong. You nod your agreement, looking down at your hands where they're curled loosely in your lap. Your chest hurts. You don't speak. 

"I don't intend to ask that of you," Asgore continues. "The world is often unfair, but that doesn't mean people like me get to sit around and let it stay that way. Frisk, I will do my best to make them see that you should be allowed to live where you want to live, and make choices about your future for yourself. You're a hero, and more than that, you're a person; you deserve that much respect. But I'm also asking, as someone who cares about you..."

When he speaks again, his voice is terribly earnest. "It's possible that the humans might be able to save you, if we can't. If it means the difference between you living and you dying...even if the humans hated us after, even if we never saw you again...Frisk, I would want you to go." 

The pain worsens. You grasp a bit at your chest and gasp, and suddenly, Sans is there. 

"hold on," he says, tone sharp underneath his usual monotone. Distractedly, you wonder if he's talking to you or to Asgore. It doesn't seem to matter. His fingers are light on your arms, but it's enough of a reminder to you to sit up and breathe. 

Or try. Just the reminder isn't exactly enough. 

"Oh dear," Asgore says. "Frisk, is something wrong? Are you in pain?" 

You don't want to lie to him. You nod. 

"What..." Asgore trails off. He sounds so lost, you think. Your hands in your lap curl into fists. 

"does it hurt somewhere specific?" Sans says. 

Your breaths still aren't even. You pat at your chest, uncertain. 

"You don't look well," Asgore says. 

"you don't say," Sans snaps. He turns back to you. "what do you need?" 

You shake your head. You don't know, but this doesn't feel exactly like before. It feels like...

You're suddenly spun around and wrapped in blue. 

"shh," Sans says quietly. "...is this helping?"

To your surprise, it is. "...Yes." 

"cool." Despite his detached words, his arms stay wrapped around you. "take it a breath at a time. one thing at a time, ok?"

You can't see Asgore, but he sounds upset. "I didn't mean—"

Sans seems to  _hiss_  at him, and you hear something start to rattle. Asgore quiets down. 

"nobody's going to make you leave," Sans says. "who takes someone sick away from their family? that's stupid. we monsters know better than to do something dumb like that." 

That's right. Monsters are kept alive by their emotions, aren't they? This matters to them, perhaps even more than it would to humans. You can trust them. 

You lean against Sans and take deep, steady breaths, while Asgore beside you makes faint distressed noises. You feel calmer, little by little. Sans's reassurances made you realize—you're  _terrified_  of leaving. You knew you didn't want to, with how you felt when Undyne first brought up that you'd need to go back, but it feels like you're understanding it properly for the first time. 

You don't just want to stay; something inside you is tied to it, so tightly that it's physically painful to think about cutting those ties. Maybe it's your imagination. Maybe it's a simple response to your experiences, and finding peace and a family after so long running from one place to another, never feeling safe. Maybe you resent the humans, on some level, for not giving you a place that feels like home before you ever fell into the Underground. Those are all possibilities. 

But it's possible that it's also more. Maybe your desire to stay is an instinct meant to protect you. If so, it's another sign that the River People were right, and you can't survive among the humans anymore. 

And if _that's_ true, then the best way to protect yourself is clear. 

You twist in Sans's arms to look at Asgore. "I need to tell you something," you say to him. 

You're still not sure if it's the right choice, but it was probably only going to be a matter of time. 

Sans lets you go, but he keeps one of your hands wrapped in his. His finger bones are warm and dry and very smooth. 

You cast around for where to begin, and decide that where you started with Undyne is easiest. "There's a story about humans that used to visit the Underground..." 

* * *

When you're done, there's silence in the living room. 

You'd been given permission to explain what you knew, and you decided that it was for the best. Asgore is the one trying to solve these problems; it makes sense that he should know as much as possible, and it isn't as though he can't keep a secret. Besides, compared to the rest of what you had to explain, that part was relatively easy. 

To his credit, he listens. He's careful and quiet and doesn't ask too many questions, until the end, at which point he asks a few. 

"Do you think I could visit them?" he asks gently. 

You shrug. You don't really know. 

"I'm not angry," Asgore said. "If what they say is true, then things have gotten a bit more complicated, but maybe easier, too—at least, in some ways. I'll need to find out more before I decide what to pass on to the humans in the town." 

"I can ask," you offer. You suspect that you can convey a message to the River People pretty easily. 

"No, best not," he says. "I'll have word sent discreetly. I don't want you traveling overland unless you need to, after all." 

His gaze darkens, then, and you're reminded of the king who did everything he could to save his people—beyond the point where he thought he himself could be redeemed. 

"Frisk..." he begins, and then you all freeze when you hear the front door open. 

"...I'm going to go talk to Alphys," he says, rising heavily. "Frisk...we've got your back. We'll figure something out." 

He leaves heavily, and shuts the door ponderously behind him. Sans uses blue magic to plunk you into the chair by the fire he's vacated. He sits on the arm, one leg dangling over each side. 

"i'm starting to see where tori's coming from," Sans says into the silence.

You shrug. 

"you know you don't gotta do anything you don't want to, right?" he asked. "not that I think you're gonna start doing what everyone says now, but just for the record…"

The thought warms you. You nod and smile faintly. 

"good." Sans settles in, bumping you with his shoulder. "so. you told asgore. who else you gonna tell?"

You stare at your lap for a long time, thinking about it. "Mettaton," you say. 

"...okay, i'll admit it. not the first person i thought you were gonna mention."

"He's a friend." 

"that so."

"Yeah." 

"that's all well and good, but i gotta admit, i was thinking more tori.." 

Your voice goes tiny without you meaning it to. "I know," you begin, but you're interrupted. 

"You must tell me what, exactly?" 

You wince. Toriel's standing in the entry to the living room, a hand on her hip. She looks a little irritated, but mainly because of Asgore, you think. Under that, there's nothing but warm concern. 

You don't want to tell her, but it's not the same sort of "don't want to" that came with the thought of leaving. Compared to that, it doesn't seem as difficult, and you know that one way or another, it's inevitable that she find out. It's probably best that it come from you.  

So you get up and take her hand, and take her to her favorite chair, and sit backwards in her lap. Sans, when you glance around, is nowhere to be seen, but you suspect he'll be back in an instant if needed. 

You lean back against Toriel's hands, which are bracing your back, and look into her warm, soft eyes. 

You find the gentlest words you have in you and string them together, one by one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters are still causing trouble, so it might be a little while. Hopefully not _too_ long, though. Thanks in advance for your patience. :)


	19. Drifting Slowly Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk settles in to their new (old) home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, don't get super excited; most of this chapter was written ages ago and just needed a bit of tightening up. Also, NaNo's coming up in like a week and a bit, and I have an ofic project planned for that...but yeah, this story isn't dead yet. Still sporadically kicking.

In the end, you move back with Toriel to the Underground.  

It wasn't what any of you wanted, exactly, but over the next few weeks, you get weaker. It's a subtle thing, and at first Toriel worries that it's simple lack of exercise, but you notice. Your appetite dwindles, and you spend more time sleeping. Climbing the stairs starts to get difficult, and Sans takes to levitating you up them with his blue magic. Papyrus's attempt at indoor calisthenics almost ends in disaster before Sans forces him to slow down, and the three of you spend a few gloomy hours playing with crosswords instead. Papyrus doesn't take well to being toned down, but you appreciate it. 

You almost miss the days of battling monsters left and right; at least you hadn't felt so  _weary_  then. It's like your body's getting to be more than you can lift, even as you know it's getting lighter. 

Toriel had lived in the ruins before, and she talks it over with Asgore before a makeshift magical elevator is put into the hole where you fell. You explore it first, looking for traces of ghosts even more ephemeral than Napstablook and his family, but there's nothing aside from the field of yellow flowers. 

Asgore and Toriel look pained at these, when they see them, but they don't say anything about it and neither do you. You've brought back enough of their bad memories already.  

You move in under the cover of night, with Toriel hiding you under a large, black umbrella from any prying eyes. You can't see the stars from underneath it, and the light snowfall patters on the umbrella without touching you. Your breath fogs in front of your face in the dim light of the luminescent crystal Toriel has you carrying, since, unlike her, you're unable to see in the dark.  

The hole you fell into has been widened out, and there's a scaffolding around it now, ending in a platform with a simple set of pulleys. The system has been tested and is stable, even for the combined weight of a (small) human and a boss monster. Toriel holds your hand all the way down, and then the two of you work your way back to her house.  

"It's a good thing I didn't move much out," Toriel says. She's got a sack full of human food over one shoulder, and the other has a bag full of things she took with her to the surface in the first place. She carries them both without any indication that they're heavy at all. 

You've fit as many things as you could into your backpack. You haven't added much since coming to the surface, compared to what you had when you were traveling the Underground, but the pack feels heavier than you remember, and after the second time you trip Toriel wordlessly takes it from you. As you pass through the seemingly interminable mazes and puzzles that had first greeted you when you first came here, she eventually just picks you up and carries you, too, in the crook of her arm. You focus on keeping your eyes open. 

The house is dark and smells old and cold. Toriel parks you in the chair and gets the fire going; it's crackling warmly in seconds. She gets some additional wood from the back of the house and then heads into the kitchen. Little by little, the sounds of cooking and the flickering firelight work together to warm up the house. It's still quiet, and lonely. You curl up in on yourself against the pain, and jump only slightly when you feel bony fingertips tap lightly against your shoulder blade. You've gotten used to Sans appearing out of nowhere lately; he didn't follow the two of you down, but he's never far.  

The morning doesn't come, down here in the darkness, but you get up anyway and help Toriel with breakfast. You ask Sans to deliver a note for you, and he disappears as you pick a fight with Toriel's delicious breakfast pie. It's very solid, but also delicious, and you eat more of it than you feel like but obviously less than she wants. 

That day, You ride on Toriel's shoulder to the library in the morning, picking out some of the books that hadn't made it up to the surface. In the afternoon, you sprawl on the floor by the fire, reading, while Toriel works on her syllabus. 

In the evening, you cook dinner together. Sometimes someone comes to visit, and Toriel puts you to bed early. 

The next day passes about the same way. So does the one after that. 

The silence sinks into you, hour by hour and day by day. It's building some sort of pressure in your chest, almost a persistent ache that radiates outwards. You feel wrong, down here. You feel worse than you did when you left. But everyone else is doing the best they can for you, so complaining isn't exactly an option.  

Everyone's been very calm, ever since word finished spreading. Asgore promised to keep the River People's secrets until he reaches some sort of agreement between all parties. Word about _you_ , though, would have been very difficult to keep quiet, and you didn't ask anyone to try. 

But, so far at least, none of it has been as awful as you'd imagined it would be. 

It's not that people aren't worried—you're pretty sure it can't be that, because monsters are kind, and your friends especially so. But they've faced bad situations before, and they don't handle it quite the way you do.  

You've pushed back against the impossible in the past, but it takes something calmer to look at it and realize that it's there, and immovable, and continue moving forward anyway. 

They could just be denying the inevitable, of course, and it seems that way sometimes in how they  _don't_  talk about it...but you get the sense that this is something else. Going up against a bad situation and knowing that you may not be able to change it, but doing your best anyway...you can't quite imagine it. You're probably too young to, even if you're right in the middle of this. You're pretty sure things are different for them.  

But Sans has been at your side, implacable, and Toriel has acted normal despite her wavering smile, and whatever's going on with Asgore, you don't think it has much to do directly with the rumor you've passed on to your friends and what it says about your (lack of a) future.  

They take the time to come visit you, too, and that means a great deal.  

* * *

Alphys comes first, to report on the nature of the mushrooms. They aren't particularly special, she says; they just have strong healing properties. When she hears that, Toriel thanks her and then asks her to continue researching what might be wrong. Alphys admits that Asgore already had the same response. 

She assures you that she'll do everything she can to figure this out, but something about her expression worries you. She usually looks tired, but there's a difference between when she's talking electronics and when she's talking medicine. She seems more frightened than before; her stuttering has gotten worse, and her eyes dart around. She seems to have even faded in color a little. 

Asgore's been working overtime with the humans, between politics and what's threatening to turn into a custody case, and Undyne's been with him. You make a note to ask her how Alphys is doing the next time you see her. You hope neither of them is too stressed out by all this.  

You do give Alphys your notebook, before she leaves.  

"W-what's this?" she asks.  

"My diary," you say solemnly.  

"O-okay..." 

"It's notes," you say. "In case they might help."  

"Oh! Thanks." She opens it up and scans them for a moment. She smiles a little. "Y-your handwriting isn't anything like Undyne's."  

It isn't, but the memory of Undyne's letter seems to have cheered her up. "How is hers?" you ask.  

Alphys blushes. "It's...enthusiastic?"  

That sounds about right. "Hug Undyne for me," you say, winking and watch as she sweats a little. You like this Alphys better than the one that was talking about stasis chambers and spells and IVs a few minutes ago. You're not sure Asgore and Toriel made the right choice, asking her to do something like this again. But you make your goodbye hug as tight as you can, and try to tell her without words that it's okay. You're not sure if it helps or not, but it's the least you can do. 

* * *

Papyrus is the one that comes the most often. Half of the time he yells at Sans, and the other half you play video games or watch videos that Alphys sends you. Papyrus is slowly, and surprisingly grudgingly, getting into anime—though his tastes are wildly inconsistent, and seem to span a number of genres. 

Sans, to your exasperation, is able to predict his which ones he'll like every single time.  

Papyrus cries at all the sad parts, and wraps himself around you, cuddling enthusiastically, through just about all of it. His and Sans's banter make watching anything more entertaining, and they're a pretty enthusiastic audience when you play video games, too—even when you're losing.  

The others come, too. Napstablook shows up one day with a record of new tunes, apologizing for not being able to bring his equipment down with him; you listen to it together, and he leaves smiling his shy little smile. Monster Kid comes over and you build a pillow fort. Several other monsters come as well, including a memorable, if short, visit from some of the Amalgamates and their families. 

All of them are very polite and considerate, and none say anything direct about how you're dying. But you can feel kindness radiating off them, almost like waves on a beach. Something in you responds to that, is soothed and replenished and so, so grateful. 

You don't think it's enough to save you, but you can still appreciate the effort. 

* * *

One afternoon, when Toriel's parked herself at the kitchen table and is working on what looks like a small mountain of paperwork, Sans disappears for a few hours. You sit in the armchair by the fire with a book—it's about the history of monster sign languages, and it's very interesting—and pretend not to notice, but a part of you wonders wistfully what he's doing. He can get to the surface faster than anyone, of course, and you wonder what you'd be able to do, if you could just warp from place to place. But that just makes you think about all the friends you had to leave behind when you returned to the Underground, so you try not to linger on it too long. 

Sure enough, he's back in a few hours—you're not sure exactly how long he's been gone, because you reach the end of the current chapter you're reading and stretch and look around and there he is, dozing in a corner. Toriel, in the corner, is still working, and you're not sure if she's noticed him, either.  

When he sees you looking, he gestures towards her and raises an eyebrow ridge. Then, he creeps up behind her, on tiptoe with his slippers dangling below his heels. You watch with your hands over your mouth to stifle any giggles as he makes a great show of reaching up, tapping her on one shoulder, and then ducking down behind the other one.  

"Oh," she says, and turns. Sans shadows her, staying well out of her line of sight, and you start giggling in earnest. When she looks over at you, Sans slips out from behind him and pulls something large and green from seemingly nowhere. It's a wreath, apparently, complete with a bright red bow at the base. Even from halfway across the room, you think you catch a whiff of evergreen.   

"Oh! Sans," she says again. "Goodness, what a lovely wreath. Where did you come by that?"  

"apparently it's gettin' close to 'christmas' on the surface," Sans says. "or close enough to start decoratin', anyway. undyne's little friend's real excited about it, he's been telling her all about it. some 'a the folks in the town have been making these." You see his feet shuffle slightly as he holds it out further. "thought you could put it up, if you want." 

"How thoughtful!" Toriel says. "I will do so. Frisk, I trust you will tell me more about this 'Christmas' as it approaches?"  

You smile and nod. There's still a while before the holiday comes along, but the hype does seem to start earlier every year.  

"anyway," Sans says, "there's some questions about the school that people have been wonderin' about, and i've got all my errands done. you could go up, see if you can help out." 

Toriel frowns, scratching at her chin.  

"hint, hint," Sans adds. 

Finally, Toriel sighs. "Oh, all right. If it truly is not any trouble..." 

"never any trouble," Sans says, immediately but easily. "you go do what'cha gotta do. 'swhat you're paying me for."  

Toriel still doesn't look sure, but she stands up and starts shuffling the paperwork into folders, and from folders into an over-sized bag, which she slings over her shoulder.  

"Don't forget a coat," you remind her. According to Sans, it's still snowing out, and has been for the last couple of days.  

"Do not worry," she says, smiling at you, and takes a coat from the rack, folding it over one arm. "Thank you for the reminder."  

You grin and wave, and she pauses for a second before lifting her hand in return. "Farewell," she says. "There are leftovers in the refrigerator, whenever you might want them. Sans, that goes for you as well."  

"noted," Sans says, and then he grins at you for some reason as Toriel closes the door.  

You settle in to read a bit more, but it's only a little while later that Sans pokes you. "hey." 

You look up, confused.  

"tori's not the only one i got a present for. wanna see?"  

You set your book aside in answer.  

it's the sorta thing that doesn't keep well," Sans continues. He reaches into his hoodie, and somehow pulls out an entire paper bag, soaked through in places with grease.  

You feel a smile start at the corners of your mouth, all on its own.  

"see, i stopped by grillby's on my way over, 'cuz why not, right?" Sans says. He digs out a folded-over paper plate and a small container of ketchup. "and i was talkin' over some stuff with grillbz, y'know, and he said to bring this back. on the house."  

That's very kind of him, you think, but mainly you're just excited. You take the plate from Sans as politely as you can, and open it up to see a slightly squashed-looking cheeseburger, ketchup and melting cheese dripping down the sides. You pick it up hungrily and take a bite... 

...and your face falls, again of its own volition. You chew mechanically, hoping that the drop in enthusiasm doesn't show on your face, but Sans was a pretty perceptive guy even before he started spending hours with you ever day. He's been keeping a close eye.  

"grillbz's been working on his human-food recipes," he says. "think he'd be happy to hear an expert's opinion." 

That makes sense. And it's only polite, given that he's sent you free food, so you mull it over carefully as you chew. "'s really good," you conclude around a mouthful of burger, because it is. It tastes quite a bit like his monster food, in fact. It's just heavier, and unsatisfying in a way that has nothing to do with Grillby's culinary skills.  

Sans waits for you to stop chewing and finally swallow before he speaks again. "what's wrong?" he asks. "he's not here right now, you can be honest. i can <em>butter</em> him up about it later, if there's something he messed up." 

"No, really," you say. "It's good. It tastes just as good as always."  

"yeah, he's good at what he does." He doesn't stop with the look, though.   

For someone with a fairly immobile face, you've gotten used to a variety of Sans's expressions, especially combined with his body language. When he's leaning forward like this, head obviously angled towards you, he's interested and absorbing your every move. You don't know what he does with all that information, but he's always given off a vibe of someone who knows more than he ever lets on.  

He doesn't bother with this sort of attention often, but when he does, you're more sure than ever that you can't get anything past him.  

Like right now, for instance. "you craving monster food, or somethin'?" he asks. "that why you're lookin' so blue?" 

"I'm wearing purple," you quip, to see if he'll accept the pun. 

He grins, but he keeps right on staring, so you know you haven't gotten out of a real answer. 

"...Sort of," you admit.  

"pretty sure human food is healthier for humans, kiddo." 

You know that. You don't know why it's frustrating, but it is. You take another bite, a tiny one, and chew it over and over.  

"tori thinks so, too," he says. "if you wanna convince me to go behind <em>her</em> back, you better be thinking up a pretty sweet bribe. 'cause i know what's good for me, and that's stayin' on her good side." 

You swallow, hard, to clear your throat. "That's fine," you say. "I get it." Then, before you can stop it, a few more mulish words slip out. "You eat ketchup," you add.  

Sans chuckles. "what, so I'm not really the go-to guy for a healthy diet? that's fair." 

You eat half the burger, mainly out of a sense of gratitude, and tell Sans that yeah, it tastes amazing. You put the other half in the refrigerator, and ask him why Grillby's been making human food. 

"well," Sans begins, and then pauses for longer than seems entirely warranted for simple small talk. "he's a barkeeper, y'know? he hears things. and there's some stuff that's gotten around." 

"Stuff?" you ask.  

"nothing awful," he says. He leans back against the back of the chair from where he's perched on the arm of it, staring at the ceiling with his hands folded behind his head. "nothin's out around town that's bad for asgore if everybody knows. but the guard's been tellin' people a bit about the humans, and we monsters, we're curious folks. everybody knows by now that there's some reason that humans haven't visited, though nobody seems to know quite why." 

That does make sense, you think, and wait for him to continue.  

"everyone's got their own opinion," Sans says, his tone more pensive. "grillby's a pretty practical guy, y'know? he knows what he does well, and he sticks to it. so he's working on his recipes." 

"Even if nobody gets to try them?" 

"you've gotten to,;" Sans points out. "that's good enough for him. he's a good guy. besides, some of the monsters really like 'em. alphys, for example. undyne brings her grillby's experiments sometimes. she always used to find human food down in the dump. she likes it." 

That's true, you recall. She'd liked your pasta, too, even when Papyrus couldn't...well... _stomach_  it. You smile slightly at the memory.  

"yeah, and then there's the question of if the humans'll come to visit. no way of knowing if it'll happen, but i figure grillbz wants to be ready. besides, if the can't come to us, maybe he can come to them. set up a booth or a burger truck or somethin'." 

"A hot dog stand?" you ask.  

Sans grins. "yeah, a hot dog stand. but with more than just hot dogs, obviously."  

"That sounds nice," you say.  

"it does, yeah." He pauses for the space of a quiet breath. "...think it'll ever happen?" 

You're not ready for the question, but you think about it. "Yeah," you say finally. "Food trucks are pretty popular." 

You both know that isn't quite what he meant, but he accepts the answer, sitting back. "cool."  

You sit together in silence for a while, Sans's elbow brushing your head from time to time. You've started to think that he's dozing off when he finally speaks. "i could sneak you some monster food, sometimes. if you want." 

You think about it, but even the threat of Toriel's disappointment isn't enough to change your answer. 

"Yes, please."  


	20. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Undyne makes a discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I guess I've got a few more updates in me after all. With luck, they'll be weekly for the next couple weeks, because I've got a tiny buffer. 
> 
> Lots of angst in this and the next several chapters. (In case the description wasn't sufficient warning for what you're signing on for.)

The weeks lengthen, even as you get used to the feeling that time in the Underground doesn't pass at all. 

You watch yourself get paler as you lose the little color you'd gotten from being back aboveground. Sometimes you awaken from dreams in which you slowly start to turn transparent. Other times, you turn gray and crumble into dust. You wake up from those dreams and your chest feels funny—it doesn't hurt, or at least not much, but it's somehow it's difficult to breathe. 

On those nights, you reach out into the darkness and call out, uncertain, always at a whisper because you couldn't bear to make a bigger noise—even if you thought you could, past the tightness in your throat. Sometimes you feel a warm, furry hand on yours, and Toriel silently climbs into your bed and sits against the wall so you can rest your head in her lap. She's comfortingly solid and real, and her presence drives away your nightmares. 

Other times it takes a little while, but then there's a set of bony fingers curled around your outstretched hand, and Sans sits beside you and combs through your hair. It's a much smaller touch than cuddling with Toriel, but it sends you off to sleep regardless. 

One of them is always there when you need them. You know that it's more than you could ever ask of them, so you just thank them and otherwise don't mention it. It feels like it helps, like it makes keeping yourself together that much easier. It makes you feel warm.

* * *

You hear from your friends aboveground pretty often, but usually it's through Sans. You're not sure how he manages to keep track of so many people, and half the time he makes it sound like Papyrus is doing all the information collecting and he's just passing on his brother's gossip.

Mettaton's up to his usual shenanigans. You have Sans deliver letters up to him sometimes, and get responses written in cursive, in glittery gel pen. You haven't invited him to come visit, and he hasn't offered. You're pretty sure he doesn't have great memories of the ruins, and he does still have family down here that he hasn't talked to in a while. You can understand where he's coming from. 

Besides, it's fun to have a pen pal. The letters sparkle from where they sit on the shelf in your bedroom. 

You're not exactly sure how often Asgore comes over, but it's usually when you're asleep, or at least supposed to be. You don't think you've caught every single one of his visits, but once or twice a week you tend to wake up to the sound of low voices coming from the dining room table. 

Most of those nights, you sneak down the hallway, careful and quiet on the old floorboards that seem to get creakier by the day. You dart a few steps down the staircase and peer out between the bars of the railing, and if you angle your head just right, you can just see the back of Asgore's head and the tip of Toriel's snout. Their voices range from the clear to the indistinct, but you can usually catch the gist of their conversation. 

They're usually talking politics, and it's like listening to Undyne's conversations but at twice the speed and with most of the implications going over your head. They don't sound particularly happy to talk to each other, but they don't seem angry, either—just very focused on what they're talking about. 

They seldom, if ever talk about you, but shortly after your smuggling contract with Sans, you catch them at it. 

"I think I've just about convinced him to consider Frisk as being under your custody," Asgore's saying one night, as you duck into the staircase at heading down to the cellar to listen. "He still wants to get some other humans involved, though. I understand his reasoning, but bringing Frisk out of the town would be dangerous, and bringing them  _in_  would be dangerous, so..." 

"So you're at an impasse," Toriel said. 

"Exactly. But he brought up something about a video call with what they call a 'social worker.' I haven't given him an answer, but it seems like an interesting path forward." 

There's silence for a long moment, and you're worried their voices have gotten too soft for you to follow, but then Toriel speaks. "Is it truly best to move forward in this?"

Asgore sighs. "I don't know. I want to think so, but under the circumstances..." 

"Right." Then Toriel continues, tone carefully matter-of-fact. "You do know that if you do something that leads to the loss of another human child, that I will never forgive you for that, either?" 

Asgore's voice is a quiet rumble. "Even if it's the humans who are to blame?" 

"I do not have any expectations of them, just yet." The words are clipped, but still loud enough for you to hear. "For some reason, some part of me must still believe in you." 

This doesn't feel like a conversation you should be hearing. It's certainly not something you  _want_  to hear. You sneak back down the hall and pretend that you don't hear the occasional murmur that sneaks its way under the door. 

* * *

Undyne, too, hardly ever comes by, busy as she is with helping Asgore, but when she does it's a rare treat.

You make food together with more magic in it than Toriel strictly approves of, and she tells you everything she can about the latest developments in human-monster relations. Most of it still goes over your head, of course, but she always says she feels the same way. Over time, you think, you're managing to absorb more and more. Maybe it's because she's getting better at explaining.

One week, she comes back with a letter. It's written in scribbly child's handwriting, and it's addressed to you. It's from the kid who got lost that one time, because apparently his guardian knows about you and the child himself thought he saw someone else in the woods, right before he was taken. 

He starts with a thank-you, and explains that he's doing well. He describes life in the village, and what his guardian, Mr. J, does. (He describes Mr. J as a lot more grown-up and strong and reliable than Undyne makes him sound, but then Undyne tends to judge people based on how quickly she could beat them in an arm-wrestling contest.) 

Another time when she comes, she shows up in a full fur hood, crusted with snow and teeth still gritted with cold as she stamps her ice-crusted boots into Toriel's welcome mat. She divests herself of her outer clothes before they can drip melting snow all over the floor, and settles in on the seat closest to Toriel's fireplace. You give her a big hug, and her skin is clammier than usual under your hands. You stick her hands under your arms and grin at her. 

"That's…a little weird," she admits, wiggling her fingers against your three layers of sweaters. It turns out the ruins gets colder in the winter, too—to you, it feels even colder than Snowdin, though that could be your imagination. Still, between the fireplace and your efforts, she's soon pulled off her sweater and tied it around her waist, revealing her usual tank top underneath. 

"Ahhh, that's better," she says. "The humans keep their buildings almost the same temperature in winter as they did before it started snowing! How do they not freeze!?" 

She explains that she and Alphys have the heat turned up just about as high as it'll go, now that the snow's started in earnest. Lots of the other fish and reptile monsters have done the same thing, since they really aren't cut out to handle snow. 

"It's really dangerous for Alphy, too," Undyne says, frowning. "I hate the cold and it takes me ages to heat up again, but she can't MOVE. We went to shovel out the front steps and by the end she couldn't move her feet! We were worried." 

You frown and take out one of Undyne's hands, chafing it. 

"Thanks, kid," she says, smiling lopsidedly. "I'm okay. Oh, but I had a question for you!" 

You tilt your head to one side, curious. 

Undyne gestures vaguely towards the front door. "That wreath Toriel put up reminded me. The other kid's been talking about Christmas, and Alphys was talking about Christmas, and what they were saying doesn't add up…" 

That's right, monsters have that tradition surrounding the Gyftrot, but it isn't exactly the same. You're not totally sure what Alphys is talking about, just from Undyne's description, but it sounds kind of like going on a date. Which…maybe that's what grown-ups do, go on dates on Christmas. Or maybe that's something like the giant robots and the flowery sword-fighters—in other words, more of an anime thing. 

Undyne shrugs. "Alphys was sure about it. But if it's something else…"

You think about all the Christmas stories you were told growing up, the fun ones that would show up on the television. You get the Christ one over with first, then explain about Hanukkah and Kwanzaa for good measure, like you used to do in school. And you remember something about New Years that Undyne says lines up with something Alphys saw once. 

But then, on a whim, even though your voice is getting hoarse, you tell Undyne some other stories. You tell her about Frosty the Snowman, and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. You're not sure why you decide to tell those, except they sound like they could be about monsters, and Undyne certainly seems interested. You don't sing very well, but you try to get the songs right anyway, since you know she likes music. 

Your throat is a bit sore and you're tired by the end of it, so you try to tell her about a movie you saw once, where there was only piano and other instruments, and a boy and a snowman, and they went out and flew together in the middle of the night. There was a song at one point in there, but you watched the film when you were very young, and you can't remember the words. 

You get to the end of the movie, and remember then that the way it ends is with the snowman melting, and you think of the snowman piece you carried in your backpack and the snowman you _talked_ to, the one getting a little house on the hill, and suddenly you don't want to tell the end of the story. 

Undyne is patient, at first, when you trail off. She stays quiet and waits, sitting next to you in front of the fire on Toriel's huge chair. 

You're not sure why being around Undyne makes you want to cry, but she's probably getting tired of it. You certainly are, so you take a moment to fight it. 

Eventually she rotates in her seat till she can see your face, and her expression twists into one of concern. "Aw, kid…" She ruffles your hair. "Isn't this supposed to be a happy holiday? What kinda story is that to show to a child?" 

You really should protest; you've seen worse, after all. You've lived through worse, too. But…it's really bad, isn't it, that ending? Why _would_ they…

Oh. Right. The answer comes to you as soon as you start to think of the question, but it's a _hard_ answer, and something you don't want to tell to Undyne. "Because that's what's happens, in human stories," you explain haltingly. "Magic's hidden, and usually dying out. Monsters…even when they're the good guys, even in kids' stories, good things don't happen to them. Because they…they aren't _real_." 

"Oh." Undyne mulls over that. "So, you're saying they're just dumb stories." 

You snort a little at that. "Yeah." You take a deep breath, trying to get back to normalcy. You aren't _actually_ crying yet, and you'd like to keep it that way. "He should've built a house for the snowman," you say next. "In the story. And packed it with snow all around, and showed it to his parents in the morning. And they could've…I don't know, taken him to a restaurant or something in the morning. There's these really big freezers…" 

"Whoa, slow down," Undyne laughed. "He could've brought him to the monsters under the mountain, too, if we're rewriting stories. I bet our Snowman would like a friend." 

"Are they out on the mountainside yet?" you ask. 

"They are," Undyne said. "We moved them out of their house a few weeks ago. You've seen the view, right? It's even prettier under a few feet of snow, if you can believe it. They love it up there—say the lights in the city are even prettier than the stars up ahead. There's been some parties." 

You smile, and the ache in your throat subsides. "Good." 

The thought crosses your mind: if you had to choose between a story where a snowman melts and a human child never sees magic again, and a story where a human child saves a snowman and all their friends, but doesn't make it…well, you know which story you'd prefer. 

They're both sad stories, though, and you're tired of sad stories. You're tired in general, just so, so tired, and everything hurts. You nestle against Undyne and close your eyes. 

You do this more often with Sans than with Undyne, and with Toriel most of all, but Undyne doesn't protest, at least at first. She puts an arm around you, and you feel her squeeze your side with surprising gentleness. 

After a few seconds, though, she goes still. You try to ignore the way she's still as stone beside you, absorbing the softness of her tank top against your cheek. Maybe this was too much; she seems upset somehow. But she isn't pulling away, and you've known her to be awkward before; the weight of her arm is still comforting. She would tell you or do something if she wanted you to move, right? 

When she speaks, her voice is gravelly, anxious, and you're certain you waited too long and should have listened to your intuition. "Frisk..." 

You flinch away, but to your surprise she holds you fast. When you jerk away, though, she jumps away too, as if burned. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you!!" she exclaims. "It's just. Uh. This is awkward." 

"Sorry," you say. Apparently she wasn't feeling the cuddling, which is fine. You wish she'd said so right away, but you'll—

"No, no!" she said. "I mean, I'm gonna ask you an awkward question." 

"...Okay?" Your arms fall back to your lap, head tilting as you look at her in confusion. 

"Can...oh geez." She shakes herself, and then her face goes stony, like it does when she's on guard duty. "Can you do me a favor? Lift your shirt for a sec. I want to see your stomach." 

It's a weird request, and from the way she winces after saying it, she knows that. "Why?" you ask. 

"Something seems a little bit wrong." She lifts her hands to just below her ribs. "Just, like, your belly button. That weird dot-thing humans have, it's in your stomach, right? I know it's a strange question. I can ask Toriel to look instead if you want." 

She's not wrong, but after your initial surprise, you decide you trust her. You obligingly lift your sweater, and the sweater under that, and the shirt under that...

...And blink down at a torso that you don't remember looking the way it does now.

You're skinnier than you thought, for one thing. You can see the outline of your ribs clearly near the top of where you've pulled up your sweater, and your stomach shape is strange—hollowed out, like you're halfway to a skeleton. 

Worse yet, your torso is covered in scars. None of them are from fatal wounds—you remember the ones that _were_ , but of course they wouldn't have left marks in this timeline, because technically they never happened. But they still aren't pretty, and they're new. Or, at least, you've never noticed them before. 

Undyne's biting her lip, looking upset. "I know a little about field medicine," she says, still carefully formal. "Can I take a look?"  

You aren't used to hearing her like this, so careful and cautious and sad. (You've seen all three individually, at one time or another, but not all at once.) You agree. 

She first goes for the angry-looking spear wound in your side, prodding at the edges gently. It didn't hurt before, more than a general ache, but now that you're thinking about it, you feel the phantom pain of a long blue spear in your side, piercing clear through you before disappearing. She checks around behind, and from the look on her face, she sees the exit wound, too. 

You'd thought it was all over, when that spear hit. You'd been ready to go back to your last SAVE, to try to find some way to get through to her or at least get  _away_. You remember somehow getting through the fight and then, half-blind with panic, worrying that you wouldn't have the strength to get away. 

You remember a glance over your shoulder, and the ever-surprising sight of Undyne felled by the heat. You remember holding your side with your free hand as you poked at the water cooler, and your fear as you set the little plastic cup on Undyne's head. Sneaking two, three hallways down before breaking off a bicicle and eating it hurriedly, lest it melt in the heat or some monster come on you unawares. 

You remember the wound closing under your hand. You remember lifting your shirt to check it and seeing only unblemished skin. 

Magic wounds didn't hurt you the way they should have, you remember. Wounds not caused by magic are different. They're messier, for one thing; your wounds underground didn't leave you with many bloodstains, even the nasty ones like that side wound. A wound in the arm hurt you just as much as somewhere more important, like the head or stomach, and you could only take so many hits regardless of where they landed. But there was still a physical component tied to it. Filling up on monster food got rid of the bruises…and worse.

Undyne is wordless in her sympathy as she traces a laceration that you don't remember the origin of—the effect of a magic bullet grazing you. A dummy, maybe. Overlapping with it somewhat is a shiny burn from Toriel's flames, or maybe Asgore's. She pokes at a yellowing bruise from a bone clubbing that must be at least a couple of months old—at least that one doesn't really hurt anymore. It just twinges a little. 

It doesn't make sense, you think dimly over the waves of pain washing over you as you remember old wounds. This isn't how human bodies are supposed to work. This isn't how  _your_  body works. 

Then she traces her ribs. "Frisk...what IS this?" she demands. "I know Toriel. There's no way she isn't feeding you." 

"I don't know." You feel yourself starting to cry. Toriel's been trying so hard, _everyone_ has, and yet the only results have been new confusing things and more signs that you can't get out of this. It's probably worse for all of them, you think absently. They're the ones it's really unfair for. They've been trying so hard. 

But you're really, really scared, too. 

"Oh, uh," Undyne says, as you wipe at your face with clumsy hands. This feels like a different kind of crying. The tears don't pour out of you, but they keep welling up, obscuring your vision. You feel overheated, and yet you're still shaking for some reason. She bites back something that sounds like a curse, and then picks you up bodily, puts you on her lap, and wraps her arms around you. 

"Shh," she says, the sound rasping out uncomfortably between her sharp teeth. "It's okay, kiddo. It's gonna be okay." 

You never used to cry this often. It's getting ridiculous, especially for you. What happened to the stoic kid who fell into the Underground and fought their way through it without shedding a tear? 

Enough good things happened, is probably the answer. Good things happened, and something about those good things changed something in you. 

Or maybe that even simpler, because you have other people to care about now. You didn't used to have friends. 

Undyne, you find out over the next hour or so, is a very talented singer. Her singing voice is in a lower register than her speaking voice, and it rumbles through her ribcage. She sits up unconsciously even when she's just humming, maximizing her air support, and you wish briefly that Toriel had a piano, so you could hear her play. 

The song is calming, haunting and slow, a snippet of something you think you might have heard in Waterfall once. It helps you to think things through. 

When she reaches the end of her song, you lean back, quiet, trying to get a glimpse of her face. She's staring into the fire, gaze pensive. "We'll figure something out," she promises you. "This has given me a couple of ideas, actually. I think I'll go bug the old geezer tomorrow—now it's probably past his bedtime." She chuckles a bit at her own joke, and you put together that she's talking about Gerson. "But seriously, there's gotta be something about this. Something obvious that we're missing, y'know? I'll look into it. Don't you worry about a thing." 

It isn't often you see this side of her, this quiet and determined energy, but it's as much a part of her as the anger and the bravado. She's thoughtful, and talented, and surprisingly modest about some of her skills. Those sides of her don't feel all that different from you, actually. 

There isn't anything else for you to do, but you don't tell her that. She doesn't need encouragement from you to do what she thinks is right. You're okay with leaving this to her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is apparently considered more of a couple's holiday in Japan than it is in the States, whereas New Year's Day is a lot more important. I couldn't resist fitting that in there, especially because a big part of the reason for the last big delay in fic-writing has been me moving to Japan. (!!!) 
> 
> Also, the movie referenced is called The Snowman; I remember watching it as a kid, and I played a version of it in a community orchestra a few years back. It's where the song "Walking in the Air" comes from…which is a piece I've had a lot of feelings about since I was pretty little. (Celtic Woman, anyone?)
> 
> I hope this starts to explain some more plot-related things! It'll be touched on a bit more in later chapters. A slow reveal is part of the fun, hopefully...


	21. Teetering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk asks Alphys to break an old promise, and to make a new one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later than intended, because NaNo is going ridiculously well but taking up a whole lot of my time. (Probably for the best, because the next chapter needs a scene that I forgot to write. Oops. I'll get there.) 
> 
> Content warnings in the end notes that I seriously recommend you heed if you're the sort that appreciates content warnings.

Undyne gets some human money from Toriel, and talks to the human child she made friends with, and he goes to the bookstore and gets a stack of books for her, and she gives them back to Toriel. She sits up in the night reading those, now, instead of writing a syllabus. 

She gets a computer and sets up a divider in the living room, making a makeshift office. Asgore comes down sometimes, to help her with her research. Alphys comes pretty often, too. 

The problem is, Alphys always looks very unhappy to be there. She starts avoiding your gaze. When she's here by herself and not with Undyne, she begins avoiding you entirely. 

You understand why she's doing it, but you don't want her to. So one day you have Sans tell you the next day she's planning to come, and you sit outside Toriel's front door, ask Sans for a few hours of privacy, and wait. 

She looks surprised to see you, and a little bit worried that you want to go wander the ruins, but she agrees, and the two of you take a slow stroll, retracing part of the path back to the cavern's new-old entrance. 

The two of you walk through the ruins together, not far from Toriel's house. You're both careful around traps, and Alphys has a good memory for switches and places not to stand. You realize that you have no idea how strong she is, but with her skill at disarming traps—not to mention a girlfriend who could probably beat any other monster in the Underground single-handed—it doesn't seem to matter. 

You make your way to a room where there's nothing but a pile of leaves. You'd been surprised, the first time you'd been through here, that all the leaves seemed to have come from the tree in front of Toriel's house, but somehow or other they'd ended up just about everywhere. There was no sign in this room telling you not to step on them, so you and Alphys sat, listening to the faint sound of the wind whistling through the ruins. The leaves were soft and slightly crackly under your hands. 

"…Can I ask you something?" you say, as you pick one up and turn it gently over again and again, careful not to tear it.

Alphys seems uncertain. "W-what is it?"

"I want you to stop," you say. 

"S-stop what?" Alphys asks. Now she sounds scared, which isn't what you were expecting. 

"Stop working with Toriel and Asgore to study human medicine," you explain. You set the leaf aside and clench your fingers together in your lap. "Stop trying to figure out how to save me." 

You don't realize she's been wringing her hands, claws twisting around each other, until she stops. Her eyes are wide. "But…" 

"You hate it." The words are forceful in your mouth, but you mean them. "With everything that happened before, you shouldn't have to do medical research ever again. Not if you don't want to." 

"But I _do_ ," Alphys insists, and her eyes are wide. "Frisk, if we don't do this…”

"No." It isn't hard to interrupt her, not at all, and not just because she'd paused. "Stop. You hate this, and it's hurting you. You deserve to work on things you enjoy." 

"I c-can't," she says. "If I do, y-you'll—”

"I'll die or I won't," you say, and she flinches. "And either way, it won't be your fault. You seem sadder than you used to. It's bad for you." 

"It's bad for _everyone_ ," Alphys protests. "It's worse for you." 

"I don't think it is," you say. She stops kicking at the leaves underfoot, then starts again. 

"W-w-what do you mean by that?" 

"I saw your letter back then," you tell her. "I don't know exactly what you meant, but you were ready to die, weren't you?" 

It isn't really a question, but Alphys tries to answer anyway. "I…that was just…b-being practical! Y-yeah, practicality. The Amalgamates were p-pretty unstable, d-down th-there…" 

You wait for her to continue, but she doesn't. It seems she's given up on excuses. 

"You shouldn't have to do that ever again," you repeat, softly, and Alphys begins to shake in earnest. She curls up into a little ball and hides her face against her knees. Her tail ends up wrapped awkwardly around her torso. 

You can't tell how bad this is, but you get out your cell phone just in case. When she starts to quiet down a little, you hold it up (even though she can't see) and ask, "Do you want me to call someone? I can call Undyne." 

"N-no," she gasps. "No, just…give me a minute." 

"…Hug?" you add. If it were most of your other friends, you wouldn't ask, but Alphys is different. Asking seems wise. 

"A-also in a…in a minute," she says, and tightens her grip around her knees. 

"Sure," you say. You scrunch gently at the leaves on either side of you. "I'm sorry," you add, voice tiny. "I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, or remind you of bad things." 

She peeks up at you. "Then why…"

_Why did you bring it up?_ You feel a pang of remorse, but you had a good reason. "I know you hate this," you say. "You're pretending that you don't because you're kind and care about me, and because Asgore and Toriel want your help, but that isn't fair to you. It's too much pressure." You swallow hard, trying to make the next words come out calm instead of fierce. "Please stop forcing yourself. You don't even have to say anything to them. Just…let me tell them to stop asking." 

What you won't say is that you're worried this pressure is literally killing her. You still remember finding that scrap of orange fabric in the snow, figuring out what it meant. The thought of something like that happening to Alphys is…it's horrible. You don't want to be the cause of it, no matter what. 

"I-I-I…" She runs her claws along her crest, hiding her face in her knees. "I _can't_ ," she says, voice muffled. "The others would be so mad. They'd never forgive me." 

"They're your friends," you say. "They care about you. They'll understand." 

"I…don't think they will," she says. "You're their friend, too, and…"

"And I'm saying it's okay," you say. "I'll tell them. They'll _have_ to understand." 

"Are…are you sure?" She squeezes her claws together. "N-no, I shouldn't even be asking. Frisk…"

"I mean it," you tell her. "I'm determined about this. I don't like seeing you this way."

She's silent for a long time, apparently thinking it over. It's a promising sign. You wait. 

"…Are you going to ask the others to stop, too?" she asks, voice flat. 

It hadn't occurred to you to try it. "…Probably not," you say. "I think it makes them feel better." 

"Is that…is that the only reason?" She looks you over. You aren't exactly sure what it is she's looking for. 

"It's the most important one," you try, because it's true. 

She takes a deep breath, long jaw clenching shut. Then she looks back up at you, gaze bleak but firm. 

"O-o-kay," she says, and uncurls a bit. "If y-you say so, I'll do it. I'll s-stop." 

You feel yourself relax. "Thank you." 

"And I'll, uh, I'll t-take that hug now, if you still…?" 

You gladly oblige, and she holds onto you for a very long time. 

* * *

You talk to Undyne about it that night, over the phone. She listens solemnly to what you tell her, and thanks you, and promises that she'll keep a close eye on Alphys over the next few days.

"And Frisk…seriously, thanks," she says again as you're saying your goodbyes. "I wouldn't have even thought of asking, but…yeah. Don't worry, I'll look after her." 

Your phone clicks as she hangs up and you fold it shut, setting it on the small table Toriel's moved to stand by the bed and settling back. You stare up at the ceiling in the darkness and listen to the faintest creak of Sans, apparently already asleep at a precarious-looking angle in Toriel's borrowed desk chair. You don't regret your decision, and you don't think the others will, either. Maybe Toriel will be upset, but she never approved much of Alphys to begin with. You'll talk to her about it, you promise yourself. In the morning. For now, you just want to sleep. 

* * *

You do have the conversation with Toriel, just like you promised yourself, but you almost forget to because that morning you wake up sick.

It's odd, because technically you counted as being sick before, but this feels like a proper sickness, all fever and coughing and sniffles. Toriel feels your forehead and bustles you out to her large chair in front of the fire, installing you with hot, honeyed tea and several blankets. Sans appears shortly thereafter, as you're explaining to Toriel what you talked to Alphys about. She's pulled a chair from the dining table and is sitting on it, working on her knitting. She frowns down at it, but you're not sure if it's because she's upset or she's trying to remember the pattern. 

"I see," she says finally, when you're done explaining. She seems sad, but she argue. She just says, "Well, it is your choice to make, and a very kind one. I am sure the others will understand, as well." 

She gives you a warm smile and stands. "Are you feeling all right? Toasty enough?" 

You nod. 

"I was thinking of going into town today, but now that you're ill…" 

You shake your head. "You should go." 

"yeah, go on, tori," Sans says, and lifts a corner of your blanket in two fingers, winking. "i've got them _covered_ here, no worries. "

"If you are sure…" she says, looking between the two of you. 

You glance at each other, and give her a thumbs-up in unison. 

She chuckles. "Well, I can hardly argue with that. Lunch is in the refrigerator. I will be home this afternoon." 

She leaves, and you spend a lazy day with Sans. Unsurprisingly, he's good at lazy days. Either he’s napping more again, or he’s faking it to make you feel better about doing it, too—you can’t tell which it is. But his bones are always slightly warmer than room temperature, and the rest of him is all fluffy, cushy fabric. He’s changed out his basketball shorts for sweatpants; when you ask him whether he wasn’t too hot that way (he’d spent all day out in the snow in shorts, after all), he just grins at you in that way he has and tells you that he gives no _bones_ about it. 

But almost every part of him is soft this way, and he naps with you when you are tired and chats and jokes with you when you aren’t, and it's a pleasant way to spend a morning and afternoon. 

* * *

A day turns into a week.

The sniffles go away, but the fever remains, appearing and disappearing at odd moments. 

You start needing help to get up and down the hall, and your heartbeat keeps having moments where it just feels _wrong_. 

Through it all, your friends stay close by—especially Sans. 

When you wake up gasping for breath, or with sharp pains in your chest, he’s there, two bony fingers delicate on your wrist, counting even as he coaxes you through it. He texts Toriel with his free hand without you even noticing, or simply disappears when you start to calm down, and soon enough there’s an infusion of healing magic or a new potion or medicine from Asgore's new research team, showing up to help you. 

You know there has to be strategizing of some kind happening behind the scenes, but your friends aren’t letting you see it. You don’t know how the monsters on the surface are affording their new houses, or how money works for monsters, or really for grown-ups anywhere even. But you do know that Sans used to be the main breadwinner for himself and Papyrus. 

You ask Sans at one point, when you’re too sleepy to stop some of your thoughts from coming out of your mouth. You think it might be because you’re starting to get feverish again. 

“kid…” He smooths down your hair with an absent hand. “is that really something you should be worrying about right now?” You’re pretty sure his other hand, pressing on your back, is feeling for a steady pulse. You aren’t _that_ upset, you think. 

Just because you blurted something out a moment ago, so of course now that you're trying to say something on purpose, you freeze up. It’s like that sometimes—you freeze up just when what you’re trying to say is most important. So you just nod, and try out one of the signs that you’ve been learning on and off. 

(You only learned a couple, before it started to feel like more effort than you could handle. Toriel had warned you, once, that it might be too late for you to learn them; she’d meant because you’re not a little kid anymore, but she might be right in an entirely different way.) 

You link your index fingers together twice, flipping your hands over in-between. Then you purse your lips, remembering, and link them once, tugging one hand forward. _Friend_ , means the first sign, and you’re pretty sure the second one means _good friend_. 

You care about the monsters you’ve met in the underground, after all. While getting out to save everyone there became your goal before the end of your journey, ultimately it really became about helping the friends you’d gotten close to. You love these monsters—they’re your family—and you don’t want them exhausting themselves for your sake. 

You think you see a twinkle in Sans’s eye for a second, one that isn’t from his ghostlight pupils. “man, kid,” he says. “worry about yourself, all right?” 

Not even a pun. You think your answer made him sadder than before. Does that mean you’re right, and they really are doing too much? 

You consider pushing him out of your chair and out of the house, making him go back to the surface and get another job or force the others to relax or something. You consider telling him to tell the humans to take you to one of their hospitals. (You make sure you keep your mouth shut this time—you're pretty sure you don't mean that, and don’t want to say it unless you really, really mean it.) In the end you just sort of want to cry, so you give up and hug him tightly. 

You know he can feel your body shuddering, and you know that you’re probably worrying him. You focus on taking deep, steadying breaths, and ignore the tears that are starting to creep down your cheeks. 

“frisk,” he says. “i mean it. look…you’re big and tough, yeah? you got all of us out of the underground and everything. well, more or less. but you were definitely the catalyst.”

You nod against his shoulder. You know that much. 

“and you fought most of us along the way. so you should know we’re strong, too. you know that, right?”

You nod again. 

“then…look, you gotta trust us, all right? when we say that we’re gonna help you, we are. we can handle it, frisk. we’re big, strong, grown-up monsters, and we’re gonna do our best to take care of you.” He takes your shoulders gently and eases you back till he’s looking you in the face. His ghostlight eyes aren’t hiding, nor are they the tiny pinpricks he makes when he’s sad or afraid. He looks…determined. 

“just give up,” you say, the words leaving your mouth before you realize where they’re coming from. “i did.”

Sans stiffens, and his eyes flicker out for just a second.

You backpedal. “No, I—” There was a thing you could say to explain, but it’s gotten away from you. The Lost Spirit’s words were so different from what you’re hearing now, is what you meant. Everything felt so hopeless for you here on the surface, so how was it that he sounded so—

“‘if i were you, i would’ve thrown in the towel long ago,’” he quotes at you, interrupting your train of thought. His eyes are back, just pinpricks this time, and he winks at you humorlessly. “i know. i said that too, didn’t i? sorry. seems like all i can do is drag you down.”

You shake your head vehemently. You really, really didn’t mean it like that! “You've changed,” you get out, and then, “You’re Determined.”

His eyes shift to the side, and after a long moment he nods. “heh. maybe not quite the same way you are. but you set a good example back there, you know? and out here, most of the problems are real new ones. for us, anyway. makes me feel like maybe we just haven’t figured ‘em out yet.” 

It’s an encouraging thought. You smile and nuzzle in against Sans's chest. It moves in and out slightly when he breathes, and he runs his bony fingers down your back, adjusting the pressure until it feels soothing instead of tickling you. 

If you ever get better enough for tickle fights, you think sleepily, he now knows all your weak spots. He’s going to be unbeatable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for discussion of death, suicide, and similarly dark themes in this chapter.
> 
> (Also, I apologize for my mangling of a text description of ASL. I know nothing but a few quick web searches, so hopefully I didn't mess it up too badly.)


	22. Toriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nature of Frisk's problem is tentatively pinned down. Toriel accepts an invitation from Sans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, uh...the scene that needed to happen became a chapter that needed to happen. And Toriel was the hardest character to get in the headspace of yet. Figures. 
> 
> It ain't perfect, but at least it's done.

It's Gerson who figures it out, for all the good it does anyone. 

Or, rather, to be specific, it's Gerson that has what appears to be the best working theory, though Toriel still finds herself hoping against hope that the theory isn't true. 

Part of her, though, is already convinced. She doubts she will sleep well, tonight. Perhaps no night ever again.

(She said that last time, too. It was true, more or less, but it was also true that she got used to it.)

No one has been cruel enough yet to tell her it isn't her fault. Gerson, bless him, doesn't even seem like the idea's occurred to him. He's an odd creature, toughened with years and with blithe acceptance of the world around him. But he's lost people, too, and even facing the fall of the hero of the underground, he's both calm and tactful. 

He talks to her before he talks to Frisk, for one thing. She wouldn't have asked it of him, but he does. Frisk is their own person, and able to take bad news. They probably wouldn't appreciate having the truth kept from them. 

But they don't need to know. And after hearing the news from him, Toriel needs a few minutes by herself in a dark corner with no one to see or hear her, before she can keep acting like everything is going to be all right. 

(Nothing feels like it's ever going to be all right again.) 

But Gerson is right. There  _is_  hope—if only a shadow of it—and Frisk needs all the hope that she can find for them. 

They're a very stoic child, but a perceptive one. She doesn't let the news become a big production. She files in behind Gerson and walks around him and takes a seat at their side, and takes their hand, and tries very hard not to look too grim. 

(She's very good at it. She has had practice.) 

"Well, I don't know that it's worth all that much fussing over," Gerson mumbles, tugging at his beard. His good eye is watching Frisk closely, not skirting the issue, but perhaps beating around the bush a little. "It's a simple enough theory. Magic ain't solid. Bodies are. Magic heals things right away, and bodies don't do that, not normally." 

Frisk nods like they understand what Gerson is saying. Toriel watches and wonders if they're really as absorbed in the logic of it as they seem to be, in that moment. 

(Their distraction, too, is familiar. She is used to seeing young eyes over deep shadows, lost in problems not of their own making. She does not let the pain of  _that_  show on her face, either.) 

"The long and short of it is, well..." Gerson chuckles a bit, but the  _wa-ha-ha_ s seem half-hearted at best. "Well, magic is a heck of a drug, I guess. Eat enough monster food, and even a human body can forget it was injured. It'll certainly forget it's hungry! But, well...that doesn't mean it ain't. You see what I'm saying?" 

Frisk frowns at nothing for a long moment, but it's a thinking frown. From the silence in the room, they all recognize that, and wait as it runs its course. 

"So..." they say finally, and gesture down at themselves. "Why now?"

"Less magic on the surface?" Gerson shrugs, expressively. "Who knows?" 

Whatever it is, it likely isn't that. Toriel's been underground with Frisk for several weeks now, and it doesn't seem to be helping. If anything, it's getting worse. 

"If I had to guess..." Gerson continues. His voice is matter-of-fact, but gentle. "Well, you got along just fine when your body was busy saving us all. Wa ha ha!" The chuckle, too, is low, suited to the quiet closeness of the room. 

He lays an old claw on Frisk's shoulder. Old as he is, it's light as a feather, and Frisk's narrow shoulder doesn't even seem to register the weight. "But it looks to me like it's starting to remember. Magic fixes things permanently for us, but human bodies are sterner stuff. Longer memories. And, well..." He chuckles again, more genuine good humor this time. 

"You're still carrying that body a' yours around, after all. Stands to reason that sooner or later it'd make it's problems known to ya. They have a way of doin' that, believe you me." He rubs at a spot where his shoulder starts to disappear under his shell, face twisting into a comical grimace. "Even for us monsters, old folks gotta deal with that eventually."

Frisk nods with a faintly amused smile, looking like they understand. "Huh. I guess I know what you mean." 

"You don't, you just think you do. Get a few more centuries on ya, and then we'll talk. Wahaha!" 

Frisk has the good grace not to be appalled by the joke. In fact, they even seem to appreciate it.

Toriel stands up and goes to get everyone some tea. 

* * *

Gerson sticks around for a bit longer after that, bouncing theory off of Frisk and Toriel and Sans. He ends the visit himself, before Toriel can start to maneuver him that way; Frisk is starting to droop a little around the edges, but is too polite to say anything themself. 

He sees himself out, with Toriel saying a few quiet words of thanks at the door. 

The truth is, none of them knows what any of this means, but it's still comforting, in a terrible way, to have at least a theory to build off of. 

Asgore is too late for the theorizing, but comes to visit in the evening, back from his work in the human town. Toriel is vaguely, spitefully pleased to tell him that Frisk is already asleep. They both know she will not allow him to disturb them. 

Better still, it means that Asgore learns of the theory while not in front of them. He is too soft by half, and Toriel does not want Frisk to see him break. 

He does not, though she can feel the tension in his frame from across the room, see the deep sadness in his eyes even when he does not look at her. There are some things that centuries of a relationship do not allow to be erased. Not for her, at least. Even after so long apart, she still knows every one of his tells. 

He asks to see Frisk, after. She clenches her jaw, stands and turns away, and agrees. 

She watches from the doorway to Frisk's room as he steps into the bedroom, an imitation of the one their dead children once shared. He stares down at Frisk, still sleeping peacefully, and his shoulders shake. 

Unbidden, Toriel feels a moment of blind rage, a crackling in her fingers that leaves her longing to throw fire. She lets the sensation flow through her, and knows, again, that she will never forgive him. Not even after all that has happened, and the ending of their imprisonment. Not even after all these years.

He leaves quickly after that, though not without carding a hand through Frisk's hair, pulling it gently to the side and out of their eyes.

He would have killed this child, Toriel thinks as she watches him, follows half a step behind him and locks the front door tight the moment he shuts it. And now he acts like he cares. 

The worst part is, he probably does—he was never any good at faking that sort of thing, and he never wanted to be a killer. He's just a coward who couldn't fight his way out of being one.

She turns back to the empty house, dark, with a sleeping, dying child for company. 

And yet, she isn't alone. 

"hey. hey, tori." 

Sans doesn't usually call out to her twice. In fact, he sometimes doesn't even bother to call out to her at all. She's a keen-eyed and keen-nosed monster. Usually she knows he's there, even when he doesn't bother to announce himself. 

This moment almost reminds her of long ago. She looks down at Sans and can almost imagine there's a wall between them again. It's invisible, this time, but somehow he still doesn't meet her eye. 

His hands shift in the pocket of his sweatshirt. "you wanna go somewhere? my treat." 

The thought of leaving the house at this hour is so far from her mind that it takes a few seconds for the words to even compute. "I...what?" 

"dinner. outside. i can get us upstairs." 

Normally, she doubts he'd even be asking. He's a surprisingly headstrong young man, but in his way, casual though it may be, he's still quite respectful. She considers his offer.

It's unusual enough that she decides to accept. "Very well, Sans. Was there something you had in mind?"

He extends a hand. "may i?" 

The formal words sound out of place in his mouth. She places her much larger hand in it, amused, and he leads them towards what appears to be a corner...until it isn't, and is instead the side of a snow-covered building. 

"Oh goodness." She shivers a bit as a snowflake lands on the tip of her nose. "That truly is something, Sans." 

"just a trick i picked up," he says easily. "c'mon, the door's right around the corner." 

Toriel has been to Grillby's new establishment before, of course. Not often, since she cooks both to relieve stress and because she genuinely enjoys it, and besides, she has been very busy. But she has visited, nonetheless. 

It is more crowded than she remembers, though. She finds herself glancing down at the top of Sans's head as she follows him inside, just to be sure he's still there. 

He takes her to a booth instead of the bar, a smallish one in the corner. It is meant to fit four, but she comfortably takes up most of one side, and he has no problem sprawling over most of the other. 

"whaddaya want?" he asks. He doesn't bother picking up the menu for himself, but then, he does come here very often. 

"Oh...I do not know." She looks at the menu where it stands in a little holder beside the ketchup container. Smiling faintly, she plucks the menu out of the holder and pushes the ketchup bottle towards Sans. "Do you have any recommendations?" 

"everything's good," Sans says. 

Toriel has little patience for details, tonight. "Then I will have what you are having," she says. 

She sits back, scanning the room. She does not particularly care what it is in it; it is a long-engrained habit. The people around here are her people, after all, even if they are not exactly her subjects. She was reading the room for Asgore for years. Then, she did her best to hold up the sagging spirits of the monsters who shared in her exile. Reading crowds has become her second nature. 

Even though she knows all these monsters, this crowd seems...new. Everything is still so new up here. She had begun to forget, she reflects. She watches Grillby flicker back in the kitchen, talking to one of his sous chefs. Only a few weeks back underground, and the surface feels like a dream, too bright and with the ceiling outside oddly absent. 

She does not know what to do in this place. She feels centuries removed. 

"hey," Sans says, abruptly. "don't worry about it, the food'll get here. grillby gets a bit of a wait sometimes, when it's this crowded." 

"I can be patient," Toriel reassures him. He is, she realizes, the only part of this world that feels familiar. 

"i know you can." She watches as he tugs at a small hole opening up in his sweatshirt. He is usually still, implacable, but under her gaze he's fidgeting slightly. 

"Was there something you wanted to talk about?" she asks. 

To her surprise, he ducks his head. "kinda what i was gonna ask you," he admits, like it was obvious. 

In hindsight, she supposes he should be. Sans  _is_  a very kind person, after all. And they have talked about a great many things up until now. 

Somehow, she just...didn't expect it, until the question was right in front of her. 

"Plenty," she said, thinking it over. "But not a great deal I would like to say aloud." 

Sans's slippered feet find a spot on her bench, as he slumps to an uncomfortable-looking angle to get them there. "believe it or not, i think I know what you mean," he says. "'sokay. i'm good at unspeakables." 

"Are you indeed?" 

"yup." 

They're interrupted, briefly, by the appearance of plates. Grillby looks from Toriel to Sans before graciously giving them their identical orders and sweeping away, a flame passing in the night. 

"good guy," Sans says, apropos of nothing, as they stare after him. "anyway. _bone_ appetit? " 

She gives him the obligatory smirk at the pun and picks up her burger. 

She can only manage a few bites before she sets it down again. 

"I poisoned them," she says, softly. 

Sans, burger already halfway gone, pauses. She feels bad; this could have waited until after their meal. Or his, anyway; she's not sure she'll be able to manage another bite of anything until she gets the words out, now that she's started. 

"what makes you think that?" he says, but the words are soft, inviting her to continue. 

"If they...if they had not come with me. If they had stayed with humans, or perhaps found a way out of the mountain on their own, or if they had found someone else, someone who pushed them to leave instead of trying to make them stay..." 

The hypotheticals come rushing out of her like a flood, each sounding more convoluted and impossible than the last. They do not help. Eventually she lets them go and pauses, releasing the death grip her claws have on the unoffending table. 

"probably wouldn't'a worked," Sans says, implacable. 

"Well, perhaps not." She looks down at her plate again, bites her lip. "But that does not change the fact that I may have fed Frisk the meal that killed them." 

"or plenty of ones that kept 'em alive."

Toriel looks up at him, surprised. "Surely you heard what Gerson was saying." 

"yep, i was there, and it's sans, not shirley." Neither of them pause to acknowledge the pun. "look. the way i see it, you helped frisk. there wasn't any human food down there anyway. that's if we even knew we should be looking."  His gaze is serious. "if you hadn't fed 'em, they woulda just died." 

There's something dark in his gaze that she can't catch. "They wouldn't," she argues. "Frisk is sturdy." 

"not that sturdy. not with all those fights they got into."

Sans seems oddly sure. She decides not to argue. "You are right, I suppose. But...I cannot help the feeling that there is more that I could have done." 

"you're doin' all you can right now." Burger gone—she didn't see the last few bites vanish—Sans takes his feet off her seat and rests his elbows on the table, propping his chin on his hands. He has to tilt his chin up to meet her gaze as he leans forward. "i think that's what matters. bet frisk does, too." 

She takes a deep breath. Picks up her burger after a few silent moments and takes another bite. She finds she can swallow past the lump in her throat, this time. 

"You are right," she says again, and then there is silence at the table. Sans takes the ketchup bottle and squirts some of it in his mouth. Toriel looks politely away, ignoring the spectacle. 

"you know what i think," Sans says, and the flat words aren't a question, and his voice is low. 

"I do not," she says. 

"you probably don't wanna." 

"Will you tell me anyway? If I ask?" 

"are you asking?" 

She folds her hands, settles. "I believe I am." 

"your loss, tori. no skin on my nose to begin with." His grin has no humor in it at all. "i wonder...sure, the food thing makes sense. but if it weren't that, maybe it woulda been something else." 

"I don't understand." 

"all that to get us out of the underground. one human. one damn impressive human child." He shakes his head. "after all that pain and suffering, that's all it took. one kid strong enough to carry it all. and now we get all of this?" 

He gestures at the café. Monsters are laughing, drinking, swapping stories, arguing philosophy, flirting, having all manner of conversations. Outside, the stars twinkle in the window. There's the faintest sound, under all the chatter, of ice hitting the windowpanes. The smell of magical and of physical meat on the grill. Real, wild wind blows in as another customer enters the restaurant. 

"i'm just saying," Sans says. "it ain't fair that this is all happening to frisk. it shouldn't be on them. but..."

He shrugs his bony shoulders, small points of articulation at the upper deltoid and clavicle, belling back a bit over his scapulae. The rest of the fabric hangs off him, conspicuously empty. "they took all of it on. all of _us_ ," he says. "maybe this is just...part of the price. making things even." 

If this were coming from anyone but Sans, Toriel likes to think that she would dismiss it out of hand. But, coming from him...

It sounds very calm, and matter of fact. He doesn't just say what he's thinking, she's found, except where praising his brother is concerned. Sans would probably say that he "calls it as he sees it," and Toriel, for the most part, would agree with that assessment. He has a very level head on his shoulders, and she does her best to at least consider his theory. 

It feels less right to her than Gerson's theory, but she can't quite find an argument against it, either.

At least, not right away. They sit in silence as she gathers thoughts and feelings, trying to put the objection deep inside her to just the right words.

"That does not mean we cannot fight it with everything we have," she decides. 

Sans's smile, when he looks back up at her, seems tired, but determined. "damn right we can." 


	24. Receipts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk accepts a number of gifts, and refuses one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is (yet another) one of several chapters in which you'll want to mind the tags.

A morning comes when you're awakened by the distant sound of Toriel making tea in the kitchen. You try to get out of bed, but as you sit up the world spins and you feel your heart pound uncomfortably. You lie quickly and carefully back, blinking hard. The sparks fade gradually from your vision, but only when you lie down and stay relatively still.

You catch a glimpse of blue in the corner of your room a little while later, and tell Sans what happened. He tells you to stay where you are and goes to get Toriel. She seems concerned, but calm; she promises to bring you breakfast in bed and tells you not to strain yourself.

You learn that you can sit up for short periods, long enough to change clothes, with help, or long enough to eat if there's something to lean against. You're pretty sure you could stand on your own or even walk, if you had to, but nobody's going to let you try it, and you're not sure what the consequences would be.

And so you stay there for the rest of the day, moving only when there's someone there to carry you.

You know there's hushed voices in the hall, but it's hard to hear them over the steady sound of your own breathing and the rustle of sheets and the currently quiet pounding of your heart. There's the quiet thud of large, furry footsteps and a lighter brush of fluffy slippers. There's the cadence of Toriel's voice on the phone from the direction of her bedroom, and through all of it you just stay in bed. You read a little, and you look at your phone, but holding those things up too long makes your arms tired. You drift off to sleep again for a little while.

* * *

You're brought back to alertness by a tap on your bed frame a few hours later, probably—it's difficult to tell, especially with the uniform darkness out the window. It's Sans, and he's watching you with a patient gaze.

"you feeling up to visitors, kid?" he asks. "there's a guy that can't seem to wait."

You nod, blinking. You aren't sure who it's going to be, not at all, but Sans doesn't look worried—perhaps a tiny bit uncomfortable, but not worried.

Turns out it's Mettaton.

He's in his old form, you see to your surprise, and he has to turn sideways to get through the door. His arms are extended a ridiculous amount, looped around what appear to be half a dozen bags and boxes, maybe more. He sets them down, holds up a finger for you to wait, and rolls out of the room. There's a sudden burst of steam and sparkles in the hallway, just visible in the small gap between the door and the doorframe, and then he comes back in his usual glamorous form.

"No, no, don't trouble yourself," he says, as you try to push yourself up a bit so you can see him properly. Instead, he straightens the blankets over you and lifts you with one hand while he sets up and fluffs pillows with the other. He sets you gently into a reclining position and then perches on the side of your bed, combing his metal fingers through your hair. His touch is cold at first, but warms quickly. "How are you, Frisk?"

"I…" You hesitate. "I can't get up anymore."

"I heard." He gestures to the small pile of bags and packages that has taken up the foot of your bed and the floor around it. "I'd been gathering these for a while regardless, but when I heard the rumors, I…well, I thought it was time and past time I got around to seeing you myself."

"Thank you." You know it can't have been easy. Finding the time in his ever-busier schedule is plenty already, but to come back down to this place that must hold so many difficult memories…

"Don't even think of thanking me," Mettaton says. "You're my friend. I'm just sorry I didn't come here sooner."

"It's okay. Really."

"It isn't, but thank you for that." He takes one of your hands between both of his, pressing earnestly. "I know it's been too long and I've neglected our friendship terribly—”

"You sent me letters."

"It isn't the same. But Frisk…there were some matters we spoke about, before. Is there anything now that we should know? Anything you haven't been telling us?"

You think back. "I…don't think so."

"Are you sure?"

You're not sure what he's referring to. "No, but I can't think of anything," you say finally.

"…Well, if something comes up, then please tell us. We're all here for you, even those of us who haven't made it down to visit." He squeezes your hand again. "Do you want to see what people brought?"

This is going to be embarrassing, but you can't exactly refuse. "Okay."

You spend a couple of hours letting Mettaton show you the cards and various small get-well gifts that he brought from the residents of Ebott Town. There's talismans and charms you've never even heard of, and some cards that you can't actually read. Some are from monsters you've only met once or twice.

One is an elaborate doily, made of what seems to be impossibly thin, silky thread. There are spiders and flies and pastries in the motif, and when you glance at the attached label, you find to your surprise that Muffet's sent you a gift.

There's a CD in a shiny clear plastic case that Mettaton puts in a portable player. He puts a pair of headphones on you, and you hear a calm, uplifting melody that reminds you of looking up at the stars. You can tell immediately that it's from Napstablook.

There's a scribbly and _very_ enthusiastic card from Kid, complete with a self-drawn portrait of him standing on one foot with a crayon in the other and a second one in their[ I think these were Kid's pronouns?] mouth.

There are even several hand-drawn puzzles from Papyrus, which is amusing because you see him every few days anyway.

There's a big bundle in the pile that you weren't expecting, though, and it warms you right through when Mettaton opens it with a flourish.

It's a scrapbook, large and bulky, full of bright colors and laughter. It's mostly blurry pictures of Alphys and Undyne, but it's filled with shots of the snowy outside world, some candids from other monsters, and even a couple of group shots. There are notes written under them in pens of every color, and bright, clashing paper everywhere. The whole thing is an exercise in joyful chaos.

There's a note in the front, too. It's full of crossed-out parts, in spidery red pen and handwriting you've seen countless times before, usually scatted across notes strewn every which way on Alphys's desk.

_Dear Frisk,_  
_This is a joint gift from me and Undyne. I found most of the pictures on the Undernet, and Undyne helped me with the scrapbooking._  
_We miss you up here. I hope this helps to remember all the people who love you and are wishing you the best._  
_Lots of love,_  
_Alphys_

Under that, Undyne seems to have drawn a bunch of…sharks? Some kind of shark emoji, or a piranha maybe, with the same giant smile she herself has. And hearts, those are definitely hearts between them.

"My, what a thoughtful gift," Mettaton says, thumbing slowly through the pages and angling them so you can see as well. "Oh my, I'm in that one, would you look at that? Good thing it's fair use, or I'd have to ask her for royalties."

You giggle, and Mettaton smiles at you, the moment softening. You look through the book a little while longer.

In the back is the first selfie Alphys took together with you, and then another, later one, of the both of you and Undyne wrapped up in blankets between anime marathons. You touch the tape securing the photo by the corners—it's covered in red and orange hearts. You take the book from Mettaton for a moment, hug it to your chest, and breathe. It smells like new paste…and very faintly of instant ramen and sushi.

You set it beside your pillow, and Mettaton goes to fetch the next set of gifts.

He has to speed up a little near the end, as the evening goes on and you start to wear out. You feel bad about it, but mostly you're starting to feel bad in general. Mettaton puts a hand to your forehead, tuts, and settles you back till you're lying down completely again. He leaves briefly to get Toriel.

You hadn't realized how tired you were till you're by yourself and feel your eyes start to close. They snap open again as Toriel and Mettaton come into the room, Toriel with a small plastic bottle in one hand, and a glass phial in the other.

You've been alternating between human medicine and monster experiments for a while now, but the monster medicines tend to make you feel better, while the human ones feel worse. You opt for the human medicine today anyway, though, because you can tell your fever is getting higher. Even when it makes you feel sicker, the human medicine is better at lowering fevers. You take it from her without complaint, and manage to hold the glass of water for yourself as you swallow.

Mettaton, behind her, is carrying a bowl of soup. He looks fully prepared to spoon-feed you, so you push yourself up and reach for it, making a flat space on your knees for the bowl. You get a sharp twinge of pain and a whirling head for your trouble, but at least you don't drop anything.

(…You're a master flirt yourself, but you're fairly certain you could not take a spoon-feeding session from Mettaton. Never mind swooning, or anything silly like that—you'd just blush so hard you'd literally explode.)

Toriel looks over the presents Mettaton brought while you eat, asking about this and that and saying how kind everyone is for thinking of you. She seems genuinely touched. You get her attention and show her the photo album, and the CD, and she seems to understand how important they are. Her eyes are glistening a bit as she looks down at the picture of Monster Kid, and you see her wipe at her face like she's pretending to straighten the fur on her snout.

You aren't able to finish your soup before you're worried you'll spill the rest of it by falling over. Your stomach feels like a stone, despite the magic that you know Toriel has started mixing in to make things easier for you. You admit defeat, settle your spoon in the bowl, and try to pick it up to hand back.

Your grip falters, but Toriel is there to grab the bowl before it comes too close to spilling. If she's disappointed by how little you ate, she doesn't say anything about it, simply taking the bowl away and promising more later if you get hungry.

Mettaton waits till she leaves, then turns back to you, looking worried. "I should be getting home," he says. "I really wore you out, didn't I? I didn't mean to…"

"It was fun," you say, and smile.

The same expressions flickers onto his face. "I'm glad."

He turns to go, but stops and looks back at you with a quizzical eyebrow. Your hand is gripping at his wrist, almost of its own volition.

You blink at him dazedly for a minute, waiting for your tired mind catch up with your body and supply words. Your fever hasn't had a chance to go down much yet, which makes it harder. But you don't want Mettaton to leave. Not yet.

"Wait," you manage, but he's already sitting down where he did at the start, twining his fingers with your own.

"What is it?" he asks.

You find yourself gesturing vaguely with one hand, daunted by the sheer size of what you want to say. It's important, and you don't want it to go unsaid, but it's hard, so hard, to begin.

Luckily, Mettaton starts for you. "You know, what I said about 'going away'…"

You glance down at yourself. "This isn't what you meant, is it?"

"No, it was not."

"I'm sorry," you murmur.

"It's not your fault, pumpkin."

Cool metal lips touch your overheated forehead. You lean into the touch.

"We all just want you to be okay," he says, softly. "We don't blame you when you're not. We know you don't have any control over it."

You nod, and whisper, "Thanks."

There are so many more things you want to say to him—things like, you wanted to save these monsters, and you have, and now you're just making them sad again. Things like, if you really can't get better, would it maybe be better if you weren't still here to make the sadness linger?

Things like, you know that those thoughts are flawed, but you keep thinking them anyway.

You find, though, that you don't actually want to say those things aloud. Somehow, believing that Mettaton already understands them better than most, and having him here beside you, is enough.

Instead, you say, "I don't blame any of you, either. Just…just so you're sure."

Mettaton looks sorrowful, suddenly, but he nods.

"Can…can you tell the others that? If…” Even now, you're somehow still scared of the words. You roll your head from side to side on the pillow, frustrated.

He rests his other hand on your shoulder, and you still under the soft pressure. "I know," he says softly. "Don't worry. I will. I'll tell them as many times as they need to be told."

You knew, somehow, that he would understand. You see the reflection of your own pained gaze in his wide, beautiful, brimming eyes. You look, you think, much more the ghost than he ever was.

"I'm sorry," you say again.

He lifts you up and wraps his arms gently around you, pressing you soft but tight against his chest.

"Frisk," he says, voice crisp but crackling, breaking against your ear, "we all love you so much…"

You know. You're absolutely certain now. You've had a lot of time to think, and they’ve all been so kind to you, even after you outlived your usefulness, even though you've weakened. This is more than the afterglow of your heroism; this is a family you never dreamed you'd be lucky enough to have.

It's a precious, precious thing, a truth nothing can destroy—not now, not ever, no matter what comes after.

"I love you all too," you tell him, and something settles deep inside of you. You're still sick, still tired, still dying; but you've found joy where you wouldn't have thought you could have anything of the kind. For the moment, at least, you are at peace.

* * *

Mettaton leaves behind a disk of his own, after he goes; you're not sure when he managed it, but you find it under Alphys's photo album. There's a portable DVD player in one of the many bags, and Sans sets it on your lap so you can watch.

You're only a little surprised when it starts and you see that it's a recording of Mettaton's latest concert. His dedication before the last song of the night, however, takes you off guard.

"This was written for a very special friend of mine," he says, to a surprisingly still and silent audience. "Even after fighting tirelessly and winning so much for their friends and family, they're still fighting, even now. This song goes out to them, and to all the other people still out on their own battlefields." With uncanny precision across the audience, Mettaton manages to look directly into the camera. "Know that you're never truly alone. We see you, and we'll always be cheering you on."

Dozens of magical lights sway in time with the music as Mettaton sings a slow, thoughtful song that you faintly recognize as a remix of a song that played one of the many times you fought him.

It's slow, but it's strong, and full of Determination.

Even in your own bed with nobody but Sans to see you, you feel yourself flushing from your neck all the way to the top of your head.

"…I wanna sleep with Toriel tonight," you mutter, when the song and the applause are over and Sans has pressed the power button on the player.

From the slight, happy narrowing of Sans's eyes, he approves. "i'll let her know."

* * *

The next day is quiet. The only real conversation you have is with Sans, but it’s an oddly formal one. 

He takes time getting ready for it, for one thing, and at first won’t explain why. He sits you up against the wall, supported by pillows and covered in blankets. He sits cross-legged in front of you, at a slight distance and at an angle to avoid sitting on your legs. 

“kid.” His voice is serious, slow. He takes your hand and squeezes it slightly between hard, warm fingers. “i didn’t want to ask you this, but it’s gotta happen. the things you did with time while you were in the underground…can you still do them?” 

You watch him closely for a long moment—he’s never told you exactly how much he knows—then shake your head. Ever since you’d left the underground, you’d felt no SAVEs form, and it wasn’t like you were going to try to return to one just to test things out. It feels like the sort of thing you could only do in a place like the Underground that’s steeped in magic. Or maybe it’s something else that’s changed. Maybe it’s you. 

Either way, something necessary is missing on the surface. 

“what if we took you back?” he said. “do you think you could do it from down there?”

You shrug. Even if you can, you don’t want to. 

“because i’ve been running some simulations, crunching the numbers. i'm guessing that if you’d had the ability to reset to before being trapped with the rest of us, you would have given up and left at some point, so that’s a no-go. but, y’know, if you hurried…” 

He looks like he doesn’t want to say this. You’re not sure you want him to say this either, and you don’t even know what it's going to be yet. 

“if you went fast enough, you could make it through the entire underground and out through the barrier without needing to eat. you’d be able to survive that long, probably. you’d just have to really truck it.”

…You think about it, and you’re really not sure you could. “I’d have to start over a lot,” you say simply. 

“if that’s what it takes.” Sans looks even less happy. 

“What about you?” 

His grin widens, but the expression immediately begins to slip. “i’d…i’d understand, frisk. if i knew. which i won’t unless you explain it, and i’m not sure you should spend the time on that. but…i’d get by. i got through your resets before, right?” 

You had wondered about that. You’re pretty sure, from the sweat beading on his skull and the way he won’t look you in the eye, that he hated it—that the last thing he wants is to go back. 

If he’s offering it anyway, he must think it’s the only solution. 

That's one more piece of evidence in favor of your theory, grim as it is comforting: that no matter how clever or careful you'd been, maybe there never was a solution to this at all. 

You think it over, though, because he’s your friend and he's asking. No bicicles, no nice creams or spider cider or…your throat tightens at the thought of turning down Toriel’s cinnamon-butterscotch pie. You couldn’t do that. You just couldn’t. 

“hey, hey. shh,” he says. He pats you on the head. “i’m just tryin’ to talk options with you, kid—not upset you or anything.”

You shake your head. “Hurts,” you say. 

His expression goes grim. “what does?”

Not being able to stay with all of you. “What if we weren't friends?” you say, instead of answering, because that’s the heart of it, the worst part—rushing through the underground, you’re sure you would have no time to befriend anyone. 

“you’ll know we were. and the rest of us won’t know the difference.”

“What if I have to leave you behind?”

“same deal.”

You think about it. You know Sans is being serious, and wouldn’t offer this if he didn’t really, really mean it, so you do think it over seriously, one more time. You keep your breath steady and try to approach the problem logically. You can change the past, but your own memories seem to be made of slightly sterner stuff. And it does seem to be mind-only time travel, since your wounds from failed attempts haven’t come back to you over the past weeks. 

So if you went back and saved and reloaded over and over and over, you’d probably be able to make it through fast enough and without taking much damage. Eventually.

But…you don’t want to. You really, absolutely don’t want that.

“I’d rather die.” 

You say it as serenely as you’re able, which is pretty serene, all things considered. You’re not saying it because you’re upset; you’re saying it because it’s true. Your love for your friends, and theirs for you—it’s something worth dying for. It was worth it when you fought for their freedom, and it’s still worth it now. 

“…but _we_ wouldn’t rather that. ” Sans sounds shaken. 

“Doesn’t matter,” you say, voice gone flat and matter-of-fact. 

He bristles a little at that. “kid—”

“How long do monsters live?” you ask him. He pauses. “How old are you?”

“we monsters count time a bit differently than humans—“

“How old are you?” you ask again, insistent. 

He sighs. “lotsa decades, in human years anyway. maybe more than a hundred years. probably.”

“Papyrus?”

“him too.”

“So I’d die soon anyway. Or you’d forget me, if I reset.” 

“…” 

Your mind is made up, beyond the shadow of a doubt. “I’m not resetting.”

His eyes close, and he sighs. He’s still unhappy. “got it.” 

* * *

That night, the night after the conversation, you're too tired to sleep. Every few heartbeats, you feel something weirdly akin to shivering in your chest, and your breath hitches at funny times, despite your conscious effort to keep it even. You lie for what feels like hours that way, breathing, counting in your head. You can feel Sans's bony shin through the blankets where it's resting on your ankle. Eventually, you peek over at him, to find him dozing lightly in a chair beside the bed. 

He looks so tired, you think, and try settling in one more time and closing your eyes. 

You let go of the counting, and let your breaths fall where they may. 

It's time for all of you to rest.


	25. sans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans fights several battles, some (if not all) of which are ill-advised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two reasons I've been sitting on this chapter: 1. It went through multiple drafts (I've had parts of it written for a while, so I hope I've caught all the consistency errors), and 2. I wanted to make sure I had enough material to post again shortly. Gonna try to stick to that. 
> 
> Heed the tags, please. (I apologize if I've left off any warnings; please let me know if there's any you think I should add.)

Sans awakens with a vague but unmistakable feeling that something's wrong. 

The window outside is dark, but that's normal. The old normal, and the very new normal. It wouldn't have woken him. 

The hallway outside is silent, too. Still night, then, or else early morning. Or he's just lost track of time, but no, Toriel would have been in to check…

His gaze makes its customary sweep of the room and ends where it always does, on Frisk. They're still and quiet, and appear to be sleeping more peacefully than normal. 

Feeling his misgivings deepen, he forces himself to take a closer look against a rising tide of dread. 

They're not just still—they're completely still. Pale, lips tinged dark in the low light, they lie with their head lolling to one side, mouth faintly open. 

A few strands of their hair, grown a bit longer in the past few months without cutting, has fallen right over their lips. He stares at it for the space of several breaths. 

It doesn't so much as shiver. 

"no," he says. 

He grabs for their shoulders and shakes them, too frightened to be gentle, but they're limp as a ragdoll. 

"no, no nonono…" 

He pulls himself closer and lays his head right up against their, fingers almost bruising skin as he pokes between the ribs to feel for a heartbeat. His other hand searches for the artery in their neck. The beating there is gone, but under his fingers he can feel at least one of the ventricles in their heart fluttering, desperate, out of time with the others. 

"ALPHYS," he yells, and he's dashing through a shortcut into her lab almost before he can think. 

If he moves fast enough, he's not abandoning Frisk, right? He's just saving them. 

It's probably well into the wee hours of the night, because Alphys is sleeping peacefully in her bed before Sans shakes her awake. "alphys, defibrillator," he says. He sees her eyes widen, her face fall, but he wastes no time on false reassurances. She glances across the room to where the box is sitting on a late-night worktable—she's spent hours upon hours on it, even after Frisk's promise, insisting that this was technology, not medicine, it didn't count, she was _fine_ —and in one flash he's got it in one hand. Another second, and he's got Alphys's elbow in the other, and then they're at Frisk's side. 

Frisk hasn't moved from where Sans half-dropped them, one arm dangling grotesquely off the side of the bed. He drops to his knees. "get it out, alphys, come on. no time."

If Alphys was ever suited for this (and she probably wasn't), she definitely isn't now, not after everything that happened with the Amalgamates. Her hands tremble as she opens up the box. "Um, w-wait, first we should check—"

"no pulse," Sans says, "arrhythmia again but it's worse this time, don't you think i _checked_ —"

"You should go g-get the others," Alphys interrupts him. Stuttering aside, her tone is firm. "I'll prepare it, b-but th-they should b-be here." She looks down at kit dangling from one arm, then shift and lift Frisk easily into her arms. "Y-you know why." 

He does.

The trick to the shortcuts is that for Sans, at least, finding them is based on _wanting_ to find them. They work best when he's motivated, and he _should_ want this, but right now fear is settling deep in the marrow of him. It's trying to keep him firmly where he is, watching, even if he's unable to help. The thought of the others seeing what he's seeing only makes matters worse. 

Still, Alphys is right. He reaches out, finds a gap, forces it open, and steps. There's no time for anything subtle—he just grabs the others one by one and drags them along after him. 

Papyrus is with Asgore in the garden outside the school—Sans doesn't even stop to question whatever insomniac gardening activities they may or may not be up to. _Flash flash_ , he grabs them both, drags them to the bedroom, keeping his head turned away. He can't look Papyrus in the face, because if he does, he knows he won’t be able to keep going. 

If this is really going to happen—which it isn't, it _can't_ , he won't _let_ it...but if it is, then everyone should be there. He can do that much for Frisk, at least.

Alphys is stripping the blankets from Frisk's bed. Sans catches a glimpse of her pushing their hair out of their pale face, and then he's gone again. 

He refuses to consider the possibility that Frisk’s…that what’s happening might end the timeline they're all in now. 

(He can keep refusing to think about it till the end of the world, after all. One way or another.)

Toriel's…in her room, next door. If he'd shouted, she might have heard him, but his voice doesn't usually carry far. Regardless, he probably didn't need to take a shortcut to get her there, but too late now. He pulls her behind him, a tiny, split-second shortcut to Frisk's side. The stark whites of her large, dark eyes linger in his vision as he steps out again. 

Undyne's reflexes are faster than the others'. She almost hits him when he appears in her bedroom and reaches for her elbow; then her reflexes save him, when they're the only reason she stops in time. He grabs her fist instead and drags her through. 

It's enough dimensional hopping in a short enough interval that even he’s dizzy at the end of it. The world tilts crazily around him as he slumps over the foot of the bed. Frisk is lying more neatly now, shirt cut away with scissors and lying off to one side, empty. The blankets and sheets are gone. 

Everything seems to be ready. 

"do it already."

"I'm working on it!" Alphys snaps. The stutter's gone from her voice now—it's hard, and sharp. "It takes time to charge the paddles!" 

Sans checks Frisk's ribs again. The twitching in their chest seems weaker now. "hurry," he says. 

"We're doing this _right,_ " Undyne growls. Apparently his tone towards Alphys has made her protective. He wishes she'd shut up. "We have to, if we're going to save Frisk!"

Alphys, out of her line of sight at the moment, flinches. Sans sees it all too well. 

"O-okay!" she says. "F-f-first, we need to make sure—"

Sans does not take the return of her stuttering as a good sign. "tori, healing magic," he snaps. 

"But it—"

"can it _hurt_ at this point? " he says, interrupting her. 

She shuts her jaw with a snap and steps forward, eyes hard. Her hand rests on Frisk's forehead. It's big enough that it also covers their eyes. 

"undyne, get insulation and hold their head," he instructs. "tori, you should let go before the first shock."

Papyrus, who hasn't said a word so far, kneels down at the far end of the couch and gently tugs one of Frisk's ankles up from where it's fallen off the side of the bed. He holds them in place. Sans permits it; his oven mitts should be enough to block out the electric current, and if not...well, Papyrus is sturdy. It'll take more than a few zaps to really hurt him. 

"alphys, if you can't do it, i will," he says, and reaches for the paddles. She lets him take them, though he's not entirely sure she means to. Her eyes are on Frisk's body, flickering up and down, and her fingers twitch even while they're empty, like there's something they're trying to remember to do.

Sans takes the paddles and rubs them together, using blue magic to levitate himself to a more convenient height without a second thought. He lowers the paddles. Frisk's body is so _small_ , stark against the white mattress and the bright lights Toriel or someone turned on. 

"clear," he says, and Toriel steps back. "okay, here we—"

"STOP." 

The word is loud and angry enough that he does, and then Alphys is wrestling him for the paddles. 

"what—"

"DON'T do it yet Sans they're breathing normally—"

What? No. They can't be. "that's impossible." 

But Asgore steps in suddenly, reaching over all of them. He lays one huge hand gingerly over Frisk's stomach. His eyes are wide, and so full of painful hope that Sans can't look at him for more than an instant. 

“Apparently it isn’t,” he says. "They are. It's like they're asleep." 

Sans stares down at Frisk, covered in the hands of most of their friends, face slack and heart awry and diaphragm still moving like everything isn't broken, and now he can feel the panic creeping in. "they weren't before," he says, dumbstruck. "they were just…"

He doesn't know what to do. The human body is contrary and bizarre—he's learned that much, after all this time with Frisk these past few weeks—but even so it usually isn't quite so this bad. "i—”

"Breathing or not," Toriel says, "humans can't survive without a heartbeat. It won't last." 

Alphys is shaking her head, over and over. "If this were normal human cardiac arrest, they wouldn't be breathing regularly.”

"what are you going to do?" Sans asks, feeling numb. "wait for them to stop?" 

"I d-don't know, but—" Her breath hitches, and she swallows, but when she speaks again, her voice is a little stronger. "I-I actually have a theory..."

"Is now really the time?" Toriel asks sharply. Tension aside, there’s no nastiness in her question. 

Sans fully expects Alphys to shrink back, but instead her voice grows yet firmer. "Yes, because if it's right, w-we could…w-we could d-dust them."

There's no heartbeat for Sans to count by, so instead the clock in the hall ticks out a couple seconds of stunned silence. The paddles suddenly feel like blasters in his hands.

“YOU CAN'T DUST HUMANS…” Papyrus says. It's the first time he's spoken since Sans fetched him and Asgore, and there's a funny tone in his voice. “THAT’S NOT HOW THEIR BODIES WORK. FRISK EXPLAINED IT TO ME ONCE.”

“I’m…not sure that Frisk is completely human.” Alphys swallows. “Anymore, t-that is.” 

Sans sets the paddles down and lowers himself onto his heels, reaching out again to feel between Frisk’s ribs. He’s having trouble feeling anything now. “alphys…”

“B-because, think about it!” Her voice is climbing again as it picks up in speed. “Frisk was down there with us for _weeks_ and all they had to eat was monster food, and maybe that should have killed them but it _didn’t_ , and their injuries were healed even though that’s not how human food works. They just need it, it doesn’t…” 

She shakes her head again, quickly, and grabs back the paddles. “Anyway, my point is that if Frisk lived off magic all that time then maybe it’s changed them,” she said in a rush. “The defibrillator could kill a weak monster! We don’t know what it’d do to Frisk!!” 

“then _what do we do?_ ” The words feel bitter as acid coming out of his mouth, and he almost regrets them with the way Alphys flinches away from him. She’s switched off the paddles but she’s still holding them tightly, like she’s still worried someone’s going to try to take them back. 

“We…w-we just have to wait for them t-to...to w-wake up,” she says, softly. 

He knows what he's about to say. He knows he shouldn’t say it, but years of training his comedic timing have taken their toll on him and he just can't let the opening slip by. “so, you mean like you did with—“

“S-stop,” Alphys says again, but it’s a whisper this time. “Please don’t. This time will be different.” 

“how do you—"

“SANS.” Papyrus’s hand wraps around his upper arm, almost painfully tight despite the layers he'd piled on to keep Frisk comfortable. “IF SHE’S TELLING US TO WAIT, THEN I SAY WE DO AS SHE RECOMMENDS!! SHE’S THE ROYAL SCIENTIST FOR A REASON, YOU KNOW. OR, WELL, SHE WAS..."

There's a brief silence as Papyrus's words trail off into something possibly slightly less encouraging than he was aiming for, but he breaks the silence again soon enough. 

His voice is lower now, a tone that Sans (but possibly nobody else) recognizes as a bit subdued. "AND…WELL, I BELIEVE IN FRISK!! THEY CAN DO WHATEVER THEY PUT THEIR MIND TO, AFTER ALL. THEY’VE PROVEN THAT.” 

He looks like he wants to say more, to fill up the silence that’s deepening steadily around all of them. Frisk’s still breathing. Sans doesn’t want to check again for a heartbeat. 

"…yeah," he says eventually. “yeah, okay. i see what you mean, bro. frisk is tough as nails, right? i’m sure they’ll _nail_ the whole getting better deal, too. "

It’s a painfully weak pun, and it gets pretty much no response. But it honestly makes him feel just a bit better, so as far as he’s concerned it’s worth it. 

The tension in the room seeps out, eventually. It starts so slow that Sans hardly notices, his eyes still locked the peaceful breath of the child in front of them. Frisk would be cold, he thinks, if they were awake, so he crooks a finger and lifts the blanket over them. Moving it himself is too much effort, but watching the blue magic settle it over their form, that much is okay. He pulls it taut immediately so the movement of Frisk's stomach stays visible. 

The room settles into silence again, monster breaths and quiet trembling. 

The next real sign of time passing, after that, is that Alphys starts crying. Sniffling, really, quietly at first and then louder and more frequent, till Undyne turns her around and bends over and lets her hide her face against her chest. 

She hushes her, but not urgently. She just sounds sad. "It's gonna be okay." 

Alphys mumbles something in her ear, and cuts a glance at Sans. He doesn't stop to see the expression on her face; suddenly all he wants is to get away. 

So he turns on his heel and walks straight into the wall, until a second later he's back aboveground. It's cold enough for him to notice, cutting through his indoor wear, but he finds a flat-looking stone and sits on it, staring up at the sky. 

It's clear, this evening, and he's glad. The starlight occasionally finds individual flakes of snow on the ground, but for the most part the snow is a dim, soft blanket over the landscape. 

He sits and breathes, appreciating the way his breath goes from fogging at first to disappearing as his body loses the heat from Frisk's room. He can feel the cold night breeze slipping between his bones. 

Frisk is...watched over, even if they aren't okay. His being there or not changes nothing. It doesn't matter how odd it feels not to have Frisk nearby, after all these weeks. He's where he needs to be. 

No, that's not entirely true. There's something else he needs to deal with, sooner or later, but thinking about it is...yeah, he'd rather give it a pass. Or take a nap, maybe. It isn't so cold, really...

But before he can commit to calling it a night, Papyrus finds him. 

Bony, oven-mitted hands wrap firmly around his ribcage, and then he's slung over his brother's shoulder. He goes slack, surprised: his brother doesn't often initiate physical contact, much less carry him.

They walk (or rather, Papyrus walks) briskly into town, down the silent, still streets, and into their shared house. The front door is unlocked. Papyrus sets him down on the couch, brushes off the snow on his head and shoulders, and stares at him, hands on hips. 

Sans, used to his brother's volume, is starting to be unnerved by his brother's silence by the time he speaks. 

"THE FRISK HUMAN IS GOING TO BE FINE, SANS," he says finally. 

"yeah?" He can't help the question mark. It just happens on its own. 

"YES, THEY ARE." Papyrus's voice is firm. "YOU, ON THE OTHER HAND...NEED TO STOP ANTAGONIZING OUR FRIENDS!!!"

Ah, there it is. Figures Papyrus wouldn't let that go too easy. 

"yeah. sorry, bro." 

Papyrus glares at him. "I AM NOT THE ONE YOU NEED TO APOLOGIZE TO!!!"

"doubt alphys really wants to talk to me right now, though." 

Papyrus sighs, steamrollering right over his excuse. "I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU ARE UPSET, BUT EVERYONE ELSE IS, TOO!" he continues. "IF YOU NEED TO WORRY OUT LOUD, OR BE A 'NEGATIVE NANCY,' YOU SHOULD JUST TALK TO ME. NO AMOUNT OF YOUR DOOM AND GLOOM CAN GET ME DOWN!!"

"fair enough." He slouches a bit on the couch, sinking back into the cushions. His hands find his pockets and dig into them. "i just...i'd rather not put it to the test, you feel me?" 

"TEST ALL YOU WANT," Papyrus insists. "I'LL NEVER FALTER!!"

"sure." Sans turns sideways to flop onto his back, and stares up at the ceiling. He's still tired and hankering for a nap, but he's grateful to be warmer. 

"what if they don't make it?" he finds himself asking, before Papyrus can leave. "they might not." 

"THEN THEY DON'T MAKE IT." 

He's a bit surprised by the casual tone of the answer, and turns to look at his brother. Papyrus doesn't even look particularly upset, he thinks. What he does look is entirely serious.

"I DON'T THINK THAT WILL HAPPEN, THOUGH. FRISK IS TOUGH!! TOUGH ENOUGH TO GET THROUGH THE UNDERGROUND AND FREE EVERY MONSTER THERE!!!" He sounds proud as he says it, and Sans feels a bit of that pride, too, even if there's no logical reason for either of them to feel that way. "AND EVEN MORE THAN TOUGH, THEY ARE 'DETERMINED'!!!" he adds. "IF ANYONE CAN GET THROUGH THIS, THEY WILL!!!" 

"but…" Sans prompts, because there has to be one, given what Papyrus said before. 

"BUT. WELL…IF THEY DON'T, THEN NONE OF THAT CHANGES," Papyrus says simply, like it's the easiest thing in the world. 

"huh?"

"EVEN IF THEY ARE NO LONGER HERE, THE FRISK HUMAN IS AN IMPORTANT PART OF OUR LIVES. OF EVERYONE'S LIVES!! THEY'RE EXTREMELY COOL, AND A HERO!! EVEN IF THEY DIE AT SOME POINT, IT WILL NOT MAKE THEM ANY LESS AWESOME!"

"hm." So even if Frisk was gone, Sans and everyone else would still love them, huh? Sans supposes it made sense. "it'll be sad if they die, though. they're just a kid, after all." 

"OF COURSE!!" Papyrus says. "IT'S SAD WHEN ANYBODY DIES. BUT EVERYONE SEEMS SO SCARED!! MONSTERS JUST TURN TO DUST WHEN THEY DIE, RIGHT? …EXCEPT FOR THE MONSTERS THAT DON'T HAVE DUST, BUT STILL. THERE'S NOTHING ALL THAT SCARY ABOUT DUST. IT DOESN'T WORK THE SAME WAY FOR HUMANS, BUT I DON'T SEE HOW IT COULD BE ALL THAT DIFFERENT!" 

"that's…" The wheels turn in Sans's skull, trying to catch up with his brother's logic. "certainly one way of looking at it," he finishes, because he thinks he's got the gist of it, but he's still a little bit lost. "but what about the rest of us? after, i mean. if something like that happens." 

"WE'LL FIGURE THAT OUT THEN!" Papyrus says. "RIGHT NOW, THE IMPORTANT THING IS MAKING SURE FRISK IS OKAY."

_True enough_ , is what Sans thinks. "you always make everything sound so easy," is what he says. 

"THAT'S BECAUSE I'M A GENIUS!" Papyrus says, and yeah, there's no way Sans is going to argue with that. 

"yeah," he says fondly. "yeah, you are. look. i'm gonna catch some z's, alright? you should too."

"FINE, SLEEP IF YOU MUST." Despite his annoyed tone, Papyrus has already scooped him up again, and is carrying him to his room. "I HAVE SOME IMPORTANT MATTERS TO ATTEND TO. YOU WON'T CATCH ME NAPPING!!"

One of these days, Sans should probably have a serious talk with his brother about sleep habits. But he's probably never going to have the energy to fight him on it, or the will to get around to it, so…whatever. 

Papyrus lays him gently down in the corner and makes his bed, shaking out the sheets from their crumpled ball and glaring intermittently at the trash tornado he's gotten started in one corner. Sans makes some half-hearted jokes about _dirty_ looks and Papyrus tucks him in and grumbles. Then he leaves, turning out the light and leaving the door just slightly open behind him. 

Sans, for his part, turns to face the wall and closes his eyes, hoping that things will somehow seem a bit better in the morning. 

(Nothing's really solved, nothing's been fixed, but...well, as long as he's got his brother, everything's probably gonna be okay.)


	26. Undyne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Shortish chapter, but I'm hoping to keep updates coming. (Shouldn't be any warnings that didn't apply to the last few chapters, except for some mild swearing.)
> 
> Enjoy!

Frisk sleeps, and sleeps, and nothing changes. Everyone watches them for a long while indeed, and there's nothing anyone can do.

Undyne knows this, but it doesn't make her feel any less helpless. Really, it only makes things worse.

It's one thing to watch Sans go without slugging the jerk for putting Alphys down, sick kid or no sick kid. That's hard enough. But then she has to let him go, arms still around her crying girlfriend, and all she can do is hug her and make what she hopes are soothing-sounding noises in her ear.

Across from Frisk, she hears Toriel sigh. Asgore follows suit shortly thereafter, falling quietly to his knees at the foot of the bed, eyes still on Frisk.

The silence stretches.

"RIGHT," Papyrus says eventually, "I'M GOING TO JUST...UH...I'M SORRY ABOUT MY BROTHER. I'M GOING TO TALK SOME SENSE INTO HIM. HE'S GOING TO APOLOGIZE."

Papyrus sounds very certain of this. He also sounds aware, somehow, that at the moment the fact of Sans's apology doesn't help all that much.

"You do that," she says instead. She isn't mad at Papyrus, after all. He's a good friend. It really shouldn't be his responsibility to apologize for his jerk brother.

"WELL THEN," Papyrus says, and leaves without much more fanfare.

Alphys has stopped audibly sniffling and seems to be trying to bury her snout in Undyne's shirt, but there really isn't much Undyne can do about that, either. She pets her head, running her fingers over the ridges in the back of her skull, tapping out gentle rhythms. She lets herself wrap around Alphys, trying to comfort her.

Actually, she realizes as her breath hitches into a quiet sob and she hides her face against the top of Alphys's head, it's pretty comforting for her, too.

Things stay like that for...a while. Undyne loses track of the time again, only hearing the impossibly quiet hiss of human breathing. Eventually, though, something in her pocket buzzes.

She ignores it for what feels like only a few moments before giving in and checking it, still holding onto Alphys with one hand. It's from Jay. He's wondering whether their meeting's still on, because it's morning and they haven't shown up.

She barely bites back some curse words and starts to disentangle herself from Alphys.

As she moves, she catches sight of Toriel starting to cross the room. She pads silently to Asgore, where he's still watching Frisk, and lays a paw on his shoulder.

Her voice, when she speaks, is not angry so much as it is resigned. "Get out of my house."

Asgore takes a deep, unsteady breath, and gets to his feet. Toriel lets her hand fall.

Undyne speaks up, not sure if it's her place, but willing to risk it. "Your majesty, we've missed our meeting time."

"...So we have." Asgore sounds lost. "Well. This may...we may be able to have words with the humans, now. New ones."

Undyne stares at him. "Like what?"

"I'm not sure yet," Asgore says. "Honestly, I'd like to sleep on it, but..."

"You're in no shape to do anything today," Toriel says, matter-of-fact, clinical, as though she's talking about the weather. "Tell them that there was an emergency, and figure it out later. You're no good when you're compromised."

"You're right, of course," Asgore says, heavily. "I'll do that. I'll be leaving now."

"Please do."

And just like that, Asgore sweeps out the door and is gone. Undyne's phone buzzes a few minutes later with his addition to their group chat—a succinct but courteous apology and request for another meeting time. She likely won't have to chime in on the chat for a while yet, she thinks, and resolves to ignore any buzzes that might follow for the next short time.

"Alphys..."

Undyne feels herself and her girlfriend jump at the same time at Toriel's voice.

"Y-y-yes?" Alphys says. It's barely even a whisper, run ragged with tears and fright. Undyne feels her gut twist in sympathy.

"It is possible," Toriel says, "that you have saved Frisk's life. I would like to thank you."

"I..." Alphys turns around in Undyne's hold, eyes wide with shock. "I...I mean, you—your...um...Toriel. I..."

"You are not certain you were correct." Toriel's gaze is removed, calm. "Nevertheless, it appears that you were right after all. Heartbeat or not, Frisk is still among the living. If you had not noticed, I do not know if any of the rest of us would have."

Alphys just shakes, for a long moment, but then swallows and finds her voice. "I just...wish that I could do more." She sounds miserable.

Undyne tightens her hold on her from behind. _I'm here,_ she wants to say, and _You've done so much already,_ but there is a former queen to talk to, first, and a grieving mother. She hopes Alphys can wait a few more minutes.

"I know you do," Toriel says softly. "Thank you for that as well. I will be sure to alert you of any...developments. If you have any more ideas like this one, please let me know."

"I will," Alphys says, still sounding rather dazed, and Undyne takes that as her cue to depart.

She lifts her girlfriend off the ground and into her arms, tucking her tail out of the way with practiced ease. "I'm sorry about what's happened," she says to Toriel. "Let us know if there's anything we can do."

"I will be sure to do so," Toriel says, and Undyne lets herself and Alphys out.

* * *

It's a long, dark, cold trip up to the surface, and Alphys is quiet for most of it, making no effort to leave Undyne's grasp.

Undyne doesn't want to talk about what's happened in front of prying ears. She doesn't know how Toriel and the others plan to handle this latest development. Monsters are terrible gossips, and she doesn't want to start any more rumors than the ones that are already inevitable.

So she pulls the new elevator up to the surface herself, though one-handed it's a bit tricky, and then takes Alphys back to her own house, and makes tea in Alphys's kitchen. She keeps the flames a bit lower than usual, for both their sakes.

Alphys sits listlessly at the table, and watches the steam curl into the air.

"You did good," Undyne says, finally, sitting across from her.

"I don't know," she starts, wincing, but Undyne interrupts her.

"No, you did." Undyne glares at the mug between her hands. "You know that guy was talking out of his ass, right?"

She flinches a bit at that. "N-no, no, he was...right."

"Like hell he was."

She does her best to say it calmly, and Alphys looks only confused, instead of shocked. "But...he _is_ right. What I did..."

"Was the best you could back then, too. And you were working on your own. You've learned better since then. You talk to us."

"But..."

"Bad things that happen _aren't always your fault_ ," Undyne says, as gently as she can but still forceful, because she needs Alphys to understand this. "We've been teaching Frisk that, too, right? It counts for you, too."

"I just..." Alphys sniffles a little bit, again, voice tight, and reaches for her tea. "It's just...it's stupid."

"What is?"

"I'm guilty because I lied to Frisk," Alphys blurts out, all in a rush.

Undyne blinks, and tilts her head to one side. "Okayyy...run that one by me again."

"I—I said I wouldn't...help..." Alphys spreads her hands. "And then I w-worked on the defibrillator, I know it isn't _exactly_ medicine, but Frisk told me not to try to h-help and then I d-did anyway and it didn't help, I didn't use it, I broke my promise again _deciding_ not to use it..."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Alphys stares at her. "B-but..."

"You're making this way too complicated." Undyne knows she's glaring again, _at_ Alphys this time. She tries to soften the expression a bit, but it's stuck on her face no matter what.

She reaches across the table and takes Alphys's claws in her hands, holding tight. "Listen. You know why Frisk had you make that promise?"

"B-because..." Alphys stops, shakes her head. "Because I'm a screw-up who couldn't handle helping?"

"Because they didn't want you to worry," Undyne says, as flatly as she can manage.

"O-oh."

"When you made something anyway, but it was a machine this time, did it help you feel better?"

"A..." Alphys seems surprised. "A little, actually. Yeah."

"And then you went to help them, even though you didn't have to, even though they _told_ you you didn't have to, and you thought on your feet, and BAM!" Alphys jumps, slightly, and it's Undyne's turn to wince. "You saved them," she continues, tapping just one finger on the table this time. "Just like that."

Alphys frowns. "We don't _know_ that I—”

"But you TRIED," Undyne says. She doesn't want to yell, but it's hard, so hard, it's just what her voice does when she's emotional and she feels so many emotions right now, all at once. "You tried and you're a awesome little genius—you realized something, and you acted, and you saved them. That's what HEROES do, Alphys. You did good."

Alphys's eyes are huge and glimmering with tears. "I..." she says, and shudders, "I'm not a hero."

"You know what? From where I'm sitting, you sure look like one." Undyne folds her arms, staring Alphys down. "And I bet Frisk would say so, too."

Alphys puts her head down on the table and cries a bit more, and Undyne circles around behind her and rubs her back, then pats her on the head and gets her more tea, because it seems like the thing to do. She looks out the window and it's already noon, or a bit past, and she isn't sure when that happened but time seems to have turned itself inside out for the past several hours.

Alphys eventually takes out her phone, apparently more to have something to look at than for any other reason, and makes a tragic face at it, looking ready to start crying again. "Mettaton wants to know what happened. How did he even...?"

Undyne makes a sympathetic face. "You know what? I'm gonna talk to Asgore, make sure that he's okay with word starting to get around, and then I'll talk to Mettaton. Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Look, you don't have any important work to do, do you? Because there's that new dating sim you've been talking about, right? I think we should try to 'one-hundred percent' it, or whatever. Today."

She smiles tremulously at that. "T-that...actually sounds f-fun, yeah. Go, uh, go talk to Asgore or everyone and I'll go set it up, okay?"

Undyne looks at her girlfriend and squeezes her shoulder. "You do that," she says softly. "I won't be long."

"O-okay." Alphys hops down from the chair and reaches up, giving Undyne a quick hug. Undyne returns it, careful as always not to squeeze _too_ tight, and then Alphys leaves, stumping her way out the door.

Undyne starts planning what she'll ask Asgore, and what to say to Mettaton and the rest of the Royal Guard and possibly the humans and anybody else who asks. But she also, in the back of her mind, she starts thinking about other things. Things like mushy, silly, extravagant plans that might take a while to set up, and longer still for Alphys to be ready for.

After all, Undyne's learned enough by know to know that she's in for a long haul. Cheering up her girlfriend is gonna take more than a few cups of tea and comforting words, or even a day playing dating sims on the couch. It's gonna take time, and patience, and creativity. Honestly, it might be more than one monster can handle, period. But that doesn't mean she can't try her hardest.

Besides, really, what else are girlfriends for?


End file.
